


Roses Under Cypresses

by DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan



Category: Hannibal (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Harry gets Will Graham out of prison, M/M, Murder Husbands, Someone Helps Will Graham, before the fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23879911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan/pseuds/DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan
Summary: Will Graham isn’t an only child, and his mother’s history is a lot more complicated than anyone would ever believe. His mother is indeed on a much higher branch as Hannibal Lecter predicted. WG/HL/HP sibling incest m-preg cannibalism…Hannibal hasn’t been the only one to understand Will Graham, Harry does to. He’s about to have someone fighting in his corner…someone significantly much more powerful than anyone else on the planet.Hannibal better watch out if he thinks he can continue 'winding Graham up and watch him go' he's about to have two very fascinating people on his hands.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter, Bella Crawford/Jack Crawford, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter/Harry Potter
Comments: 286
Kudos: 1299
Collections: Best Harry Potter Crossovers, The Harry Potters





	1. Chapter 1

Roses Under Cypresses 

Pairing – Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter/Harry Potter

Summary – Will Graham isn’t an only child, and his mother’s history is a lot more complicated than anyone would ever believe. His mother is indeed on a much higher branch as Hannibal Lecter predicted. WG/HL/HP sibling incest m-preg cannibalism…Hannibal hasn’t been the only one to understand Will Graham, Harry does to. He’s about to have someone fighting in his corner…someone significantly much more powerful than anyone else on the planet. 

Title is from Nietzsche ‘I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses’ it was suggested to me as a potential title and I love it! 

Chapter 1 

August 3rd 2013

Thirty-three year old Harry Potter sighed in relief, as he finally, finally got home for the first time in weeks. After a very long and arduous decade – more than that really – the last of the Death Eaters had finally been caught and imprisoned. Anyone that could and would hold a grudge was at long last dealt with.

The moment he literally Apparated from the Ministry, his phone begun ringing, typical, a single glance at the number told him it was very important. Then again, where he had been there hadn’t been a signal the magical world was too saturated in magic, it caused interference in anything remotely Muggle in nature. It was the private investigator that he had keeping tabs on Will Graham who he had only ever seen in person once. 

“Hello?” came Harry’s curt answer, the sigh of relief on the other end had the hairs on Harry’s neck standing on end. “Atticus?” the echo of his impatience showing through. 

“I’ve been trying to get you for weeks, I was beginning to think your phone was disconnected,” he started off in a rush, “I wrote you letters but you haven’t responded…” 

Harry glanced at the table in the centre of his living room, and found a bundle of letters just waiting to be read. “What’s going on?” he had already gotten his regular update so whatever had happened must have been after that fact. 

“Will Graham is in prison,” Atticus informed Harry. 

Harry stared blankly at the table, no burst of denial or hysterics coming forth. “Do your missives have everything I’ll need to answer my questions?” he asked coolly and calmly. 

“Yes, Sir!” Atticus proclaimed, Harry could practically feel him sitting up straighter smug and superior knowing he did a good job and that was why he was constantly asked for cases more so than most others. 

“How long?” Harry asked pinching the bridge of his nose…just how long had Will been in prison now? 

“Three weeks,” Atticus informed him seriously, “I have to say they have a pretty solid case…” 

“Thank you, Atticus, I’ll get back in touch if I need anything else,” Harry informed him, before hanging up. There was no way Will got caught killing anyone, he was too smart for that. Intelligent, methodical and more importantly, knew better than to leave anything at a crime scene, he studied them for a living for Merlin’s sake. 

Sighing in exasperation, he wandered over to the table, taking a seat, he began to shift through his mail, which Kreacher kept stacked neat and tidy. He didn’t have to shift through it for long. Kreacher knew how much he cared about Will, so all missives from Atticus was on top. There was only one that could have all the files pertaining to Will’s arrest, it was a thick bundle. 

Ripping the brown envelope open he grabbed a hold of the bundle and began to carefully and critically sift through it. His eyebrows steadily began to climb higher and higher the farther he read. Understanding what Atticus meant, it did seem like a fool proof case they had on their hands. Will looked understandably very, very guilty on paper if they didn’t know him at all. 

His lures had been tampered with, which meant someone had been in his property. They’d done a bang up job of setting him up, Will wouldn’t have been stupid enough to take ‘trophies’ of his supposed ‘victims’ as it were. Someone had gone to great lengths to stitch him up. Including shoving the ear of one Miss Abigail Hobbs down his throat. He had to know who stitched him up.

Four victims, four crimes, daubing him the ‘Copycat killer’ imitating the crimes of others. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, it seems he had work to do…albeit if he even wanted to see him. 

He’d had plans of course, to visit now that the danger had well and truly passed. The last thing he ever wanted to do was put Will in danger from magic when he had no active magic of his own against those who would see Will dead just because they knew one another. Which was why when Will asked him to leave he had done. 

Will was currently incarcerated in Baltimore’s State Hospital for the Criminally Insane under the care of Doctor Frederick Chilton. 

Doctor Frederick Chilton, hospital administrator, Author, ‘collector of psychopaths’ Chilton is a very proud and arrogant man, seeking fame in higher psychiatric circles by housing various dangerous psychopaths then attempting to rehabilitate them. He held claim that he even had the Chesapeake Ripper in his hospital, convinced that it was Abel Gideon and incidentally created a persona in his mind of the Ripper. Due to this, an innocent woman was murdered in his hospital. 

Harry’s eyes darkened, as he read the information on Chilton. He definitely didn’t like the sound of him at all. There was very little doubt that a man like he would be ecstatic to have Will in his hospital. 

Now, it was time to visit, hopefully he would know who set him up, if not…well, he had work to do it seemed. 

Setting the information aside, he moved over to the Floo network, using a massive handful of Floo powder to connect the call, “Alexander Tristian! MACUSA! Presidents office!” 

It took a few moments to connect, and it went through, much to Harry’s relief, “President Tristian?” 

“Lord Potter, how can I help you?” came the reply. 

“I need to call in one of my favours,” Harry explained, “I need free access to come and go as I please anywhere in Baltimore.” 

“I’m going to assume you have no desire to join the Auror force?” came his sly suggestion. “It would make things much easier…a smoother transition,” 

“I’ll work in the bounty hunter department, twelve cases, one year, draw up the contract….I wont be impressed if there are any sneaky clauses Tristian,” Harry conceded, “Do we have a deal?” 

“Where exactly do you need to get into?” Tristian asked, belatedly realising he hadn’t even asked and might not be able to deliver. 

“Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane,” Harry explained, “Don’t ask me why, I can’t say.” Wouldn’t want to say unless Will desired it to be so. 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

“Does it matter?” Harry answered wryly, either way he wouldn’t reveal the information. “Can it be done?” he knew it could, but just to be polite he answered. Heck, if he was told no, he would just do it regardless, he cared very little for the morals of idiots. 

“Of course,” Tristian answered, “Portkey or Plane?” 

“I’m flying over, it will take too long to get a Portkey,” Harry stated, and the UK magical world would know exactly where he was, something he wanted to avoid. It was simple and easy to disguise his ‘passport’ with a different name so that nobody would know where he’d gone if they checked the Muggle way. 

“Shall I have someone pick you up at the airport and bring you here?” Tristian asked, he wasn’t going to let Harry’s offer go, having him for a year was more than he could have hoped for a few days ago. He refused to work with any government, but it would bolster his image and with a little luck…have more people joining various departments. Hopefully the Major crimes department with a little luck. Harry Potter was a major name in the world, and everywhere wanted to employ him. 

“I’ll Apparate,” Harry informed him, he saw no need to be met at the airport when he could Apparate once he was cleared. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” he added, flicking his wand his clothes, documents, toiletries, electronics and their chargers and correspondence began to fly into his trunk. He checked he had his wallet in his pocket, giving a nod, everything he needed was there. Good. He wanted to get a ticket as quickly as possible.

“You will,” Tristian agreed, before he ended the call. 

Shrinking his trunk, “Kreacher?” he called out to his House-elf. 

“Yes, Sir?” the grumbly House-elf asked, he was much happier than he’d ever been…but he was far from a ray of sunshine. Not that he wanted one, Dobby was the only House-elf who had been so inescapably cheerful. 

“I’m leaving for the States for a year, I’ll call you when I’m settled, you can stay with me or continue looking after this place.” Harry told him, he still had Grimmauld Place, but he’d never used it. That was just one of the many properties in his portfolio. 

“Master Harry Potter can call Kreacher,” the House-elf told him. 

“Very well,” Harry stated, giving a firm nod, he put his trunk in his pocket, grabbed his shoulder bag before glancing down at himself, grimacing. The last thing he really wanted to do was travel with a three-piece suit on. Flicking his wand, he was re-dressed in something more comfortable. 

His home was so closed down that even owls couldn’t get into this place, all mail was redirected to Gringotts, for a price of course, and Kreacher would pick up the mail for him and have it delivered to him. The same would apply to anywhere he was in the world.

It took Harry all of twenty minutes to get himself a seat on a plane heading directly to New York with redeye, luckily there was a seat in First class and it was nonstop.

During his wait for the flight, he called in his contacts, and had an appointment to visit Will within moments. The people you knew mattered, contacts mattered, Chilton couldn’t stop him if he tried. He had a feeling that he would have made it next to impossible for him if he was not as well connected. Tristian had moved fast to open the doors for him, he wasn’t even questioned. 

He was pleased, just as he leaned back to rest for a few moments the call came for the passengers on his flight. It was time to go it seemed, with that Harry, stood up, hooking his shoulder bag across his body, ticket in hand, he waited in line. 

In no time at all, Harry was moving along, before finally seated in First class, all set for the eight hour flight to New York, JFK airport.

“I’m coming, Will,” Harry ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ and the ‘Master Of Death’ murmured quietly, stretching out before falling asleep exhaustion swamping him. He hadn’t slept well in weeks, so it was hardly surprising that his body just shut down on him for near enough the entire eight hour flight. He woke up only to eat, before falling right back to sleep.

Quite frankly he needed all the rest he could get.

\-------0

Will Graham was wrenched out of his thoughts at the sound of the gate buzzers going off. Grimacing in distaste, wishing he was back fishing in his mindscape. Anything was better than the tiny cell he had called his own for the past three weeks. 

It was the only reprieve he had here, stuck in a cell locked up in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. His fury hadn’t yet tapered off that they – his co-workers – would believe he was the copycat serial killer they were after. 

Hannibal had well and truly stitched him up, the evidence against him was…irrefutable. Especially seeing as he had regurgitated Abigail Hobbs ear. He did not like to think on exactly how it got there. 

The worst thing about all this was Chilton, he hated the smug bastard and now had to endure his presence near constantly. Doctor Chilton had probably dreamed about this for years, judging by how often the guy tried to get him to talk about his ‘gifts’ in the years that had passed. He’d been more relentless than the rest of the psychiatrists he’d had to put up with trying to force their presence on him.

He should have stuck to fixing motorboats in Louisiana.

No, the real worst thing about it was that he was missing his dogs, all of them. It’s not like he could miss his job, since they still came to him for help, despite believing he was a ‘serial killer’ and he wondered if it was Jack that was coming…again. 

He refused to look at who was there, tired beyond belief at having to defend himself against the people who should know better. 

That was until they spoke.

“Hello Will,”

Will’s head snapped up so quickly, you could almost hear his bones protesting as they creaked. “Harry,” he breathed out, so very surprised to see him standing there. His eyes roamed all over him, takin in the changes that had happened in the years since they saw each other last. He no longer had any signs of being a child, now tall, strong, proud with his hair tied at the nape of his neck. Dressed in a black three-piece suit with a green tie.

“What trouble did you manage to get yourself into now?” Harry said wryly, unbuttoning his suit jacket, taking a seat on the chair three foot from the cell. 

Unlike with anyone else, Will met Harry eye to eye, still overwhelmed to see him, now if there was one person in the world who didn’t care about his gifts and actually cared about him…it was Harry.

Unfortunately, he’d made the mistake of turning him away, it’s something he’d regretted ever since.

“I…what are you doing here?” Will asked, staring stunned.

“You didn’t think I’d just forget about you, did you?” Harry asked bluntly, “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, although this is the first I’ve heard of you being in here.” Four murders disguised as other murders MO, the evidence they had on Will was more than just circumstantial, but he knew Will wasn’t the killer. He was smarter than that. He couldn’t say that he wasn’t capable because everyone WAS.

"Then you know what's happened," Will admitted bitterly, wrenching his gaze away from Harry's. Not even sure why the guy was here, he'd told him he wanted nothing to do with him…it didn't matter that they shared half the same DNA. The same parent. He didn't want to hurt him. 

He inevitably would. Who knew when the darkness inside of him would grow too much? 

\---------0

A/N This will have Will/Hannibal/Harry Potter and as you can see Sibling-Incest so if this is NOT your thing then please do not read it then comment I’ve given two warnings…the summary…then the inside summary and now I’m giving it again! Yes, it’s not my usual style I know but I wrote a bit for April 1st as a joke but a lot of people liked it and the muse is quite content so if YOU like it, let me know and R&R please! 

Next chapter you’ll get a greater understanding of everything but would you prefer to see it as a flashback and get a glimpse of a younger Harry finding younger Will OR will it just be through their thoughts?


	2. Chapter 2

Roses Under Cypresses 

Chapter 2 

“I’m not letting you decide without a fight this time,” Harry commented quietly, as if sensing Will’s thoughts. “I let it happen last time because of the danger you’d have been in. That danger now…has passed, I finally got the last ones arrested and soon they’ll be executed.” The Dementors would suck out their souls and they’d be left to wither and die in St. Mungo’s either that or finished off with the killing curse – a mercy really – since it was just a body left. He was at long last finally safe from any retribution from the last of the Dark Lord Voldemort’s followers. 

Will stiffened before relaxing, he’d always wondered at why Harry hadn’t fought him. He’d assumed the novelty of having a family had worn off. That he’d been eager to get back to his own life. He’d convinced himself it had been for the best, the work he did…the darkness inside of him…the last thing he wanted to do was ever hurt Harry. “I’m sure you can visit when you have the time.” Will said caustically. 

Harry just smirked wryly at his attempt, before his gaze softened, “How are you feeling?” well aware of his recent sickness, it had been in the file along with everything else about Will. Including his recent career change and a bit of information about everyone Will worked with. He’d read it again at the airport in between phone calls. “Don’t try to bullshit me,” he added absently, “Are you getting the care you need to recover?” not only had he been suffering from Encephalitis and a gunshot wound. 

“Why am I not surprised you got your hands on my medical records?” Will grumbled, “I’m fine,” he stressed out, and actually meaning it, he was recovering well, grateful to have full control – or as full as he ever got – of his faculties. 

“What’s been happening?” Harry asked, leaning forward, staring intently at Will, he needed to know everything in order to help him after all. Sympathy was interlaced in his voice, knowing it had to be someone that knew Will a great deal. Will didn’t get on with others easily, which made the betrayal all that more profound. Seeing the look on Will’s face he added, “Don’t worry, they can’t hear us, the recording equipment will find itself…filled with static.” A wry smirk stretching across his face. 

“A while ago…I agreed to go back into the field,” Will said bitterly, wishing he had stuck to teaching. 

Harry nodded, he was already aware of that, “Idiot,” he muttered, “Didn’t I warn you of the consequences of that?” 

“I was saving lives,” Will protested, but it was a weak protest, as if he had said it to himself a million times but didn’t actually feel it. . 

“Since when did you really care about the lives of strangers when it comes to your own mental wellbeing?” Harry asked, perturbed, just how many bloody people had Will absorbed into his mind? Just how much had Will changed since they spent time together last? “Merlin, Will, did you ever read the book I left for you?” on how to control his empathy, on making sure the only damn person inside of Will was Will. 

Will guiltily looked away, and it was all the answer Harry needed. 

“That book would have told you how to deal with your empath abilities you plonker,” Harry snapped out, resorting to words he hadn’t used since before coming to Hogwarts in his irritation. “Enabled you to flush out anyone you accidently absorb!” it was his fault for not stressing how important it was to read the book too. 

Will just grimaced in reply. 

Inhaling sharply, “We’ll deal with that later,” Harry stated, he’d get good quality potions, he’d need to use an exceptional Potions Master. Potions had never been his strong suit, he knew how to brew the basics, but anything long and complicated he avoided. Then he’d need to hunt down a particular magical amulet…perhaps he should have done so before he left Will all those years ago. Then again, if Will had discarded such an artefact – after the hypothetical price he paid – he would have killed him himself. So perhaps it hadn’t been best. “Go on,” encouraging him to tell him what he didn’t already know. 

\--------0 

Hannibal methodically and carefully put everything in it’s place in his office. Nothing in his gait suggested he was in a rush to go anywhere. Acting as though he hadn’t just been sitting staring at a empty chair for an hour and was eager to see Will, even if it was behind bars. Silently like the predator he was, he stalked up the ladders and replaced the books he’d removed and selected another. 

His keen hearing picked up the sound of his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. He must not have removed it from silent after his last patient for the day. He rather hoped it wasn’t ‘dear old Jack’ because he wasn’t forgoing his appointment to see Will to keep Jack happy. 

Removing his suit jacket from it’s hanger, he slid it on and gracefully with one move to the next, as if it were perfectly calculated smoothly extracted his cell phone and answered it. There was no caller ID. This didn’t perturb him, since quite often there wasn’t one. 

“Doctor Lecter, how may I help you?” Hannibal said, as he gathered up his scarf and gloves, preparing for the drive to BSHCI. 

“Ah, Hannibal, glad I caught you…” Chilton said, voice as always oozing smugness, it was his usual tone of voice that made anyone who met him wish to kill him. 

“Frederick, is there a problem?” Hannibal offered up, impatience building up, he detested being late, it was rude. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel your appointment with Will Graham,” he said, sighing dramatically, as if it was a massive burden upon him to pick up the phone. 

Annoyance thrummed through Hannibal, “Might I ask why?” had something happened to Will? Had he relapsed? It was all very last minute and he abhorred that sort of thing. Placing his scarf and gloves on while speaking.

“A special agent is with him right now,” Chilton grumbled out, sounding peeved, his smug superiority gone. 

“You mean Jack?” Hannibal was definitely more than just a little vexed. Was Jack already that desperate that he was asking Will for aid after arresting him? 

Chilton chuckled, “Jack only wished he had those sorts of connections, no it’s someone from MI6,” curiosity bleeding through. 

Hannibal’s face visibly showed his surprise, someone from the secret intelligent services was talking to Will? Worry began to squirm in his gut, it was one thing to play with the FBI but SIS? What could they want with Will? Did they know about him? One thing was clear…he was going to have to be extremely careful with each move he made. “I see,” was all Hannibal had to say, his voice as placid as ever, showing none of his apprehension. 

“Would you like to make another appointment?” Chilton suggested, given Will Grahams words, he was curious to hear what they’d say to one another. He would hear what they said to one another…unlike now, he was hearing nothing but static, he must have something on him that was preventing him from hearing what was going on. 

“At this moment, no,” Hannibal explained, as he exited his office, looking up as he went, “I’ll call you back tomorrow morning once I’ve checked my schedule.” It had been difficult getting that appointment, Chilton took too much pleasure in having Will under his thumb, but Hannibal was patient, knowing what was in Chilton’s future soothed the beast within him. He’d had to protect himself, Will, even with his illness, had been getting too close to the truth. 

“I won’t be available tomorrow morning, I’ll have Will in therapy after his appointment at the hospital,” Chilton replied, where he was his most vulnerable, went unsaid but definitely understood by both physiatrists. “Call tomorrow after one o’clock,” he added. 

“Very well, one o’clock,” Hannibal agreed, trying to unobtrusively look around as he made for his Bentley, watching out for any strange vehicles or people around these parts. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but that didn’t relax him. The knowledge that someone from MI6 talking to Will had him on high alert. 

“Rude,” Hannibal muttered, as Chilton hung up without saying goodbye, sliding his phone into his pocket, “What’s to be done about that?” he unlocked his car, and swiftly made his way out of the parking lot, watching for reoccurring license plates from his rear-view mirror. 

\------0 

Will Graham was a former homicide detective for the New Orleans police, who lost his job due to his inability to fire his gun. Thus, he took up teaching instead, teaching the FBI trainees forensic class. Will didn’t like to socialise, so the job was perfect for him, he was talking to them, not with them. Or he was teaching, until Jack Crawford who had heard of Will’s unique abilities, which Will would say was ‘interpreting the evidence’ which made him an extremely valuable asset to the FBI, and Jack Crawford desired him in order to aid them in hunting down serial killers for the BAU. Regardless of what it cost. 

If you were to ask Will, he would state that his ‘His horse is hitched to a post that is closer to Asperger’s and Autistic’s’ which may be true in mild form, a great deal of his problems were indeed down to his ‘Empathy’ disorder and thus he used them as excuses. 

Will has an incredible gift for empathy, easily being able to sense and interpret the feelings and motives of other people, specifically killers. However, this has a downside; whilst it makes him a brilliant profiler and invaluable asset to the FBI, it also feeds his own darkness, which begins to resurface more and more often with Hannibal’s help. 

The first case put to Will was the Minnesota Shrike, who not only killed young teenagers, but consumed them, Garrett Jacob Hobbs, did not see what he did as murder but saw himself as a hunter, easily luring the girls with the aid of his young daughter Abigail, who could have been sisters to all the girls, and was his ‘golden ticket’ as coined by Will. Unfortunately, due to the ‘Copy Cat’s’ interference – whom Will now knew to be Hannibal Lecter – the serial killer killed his wife, attempted to take the life of his daughter before Will – who had never been able to use his gun before – suddenly found it easy to unload ten bullets into Hobbs effectively killing the man who had terrified parents and teens alike, especially if they had fitted Hobbs MO. 

After the case was laid to rest, that should have been the end to it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy for Will, who had come out of this with fatherly feelings for Abigail Hobbs who he had orphaned. Blind to her true nature, through sheer stubborn blindness, incapable of seeing her for what she was…an accomplice to her fathers crimes. His ‘friend’ and sometimes ‘Physiatrist’ Hannibal Lecter did not help matters either, ‘rubber stamping’ Will and allowing him to return to the field. All the while suffering from seeing Hobbs not only in his nightmares but while attending to other crime scenes. Jack sought to break Abigail whom he suspected her part in her fathers murders, and decided to return her to Minnesota, to the cabin and her home. Which only resulted in the death of Abigail’s best friend Marissa and Nicolas Boyle, the brother of one of the Minnesota Shriek’s victims. Marissa killed by the ‘Copycat’ they suspected to be Nicolas Boyle but was in fact the work of the Chesapeake ripper. Nicolas Boyle was butchered by Abigail Hobbs who Hannibal helped clean up the crime scene and hide the body in order to prevent her being an ‘accomplice to her fathers’ crimes’. Nicolas was declared responsible for Marissa’s death, when his blood was found in the victims teeth. He supposedly attacked Hannibal, Alana and Abigail before taking off. 

He was never heard from again. 

One particular bad case, was when Will was working on a serial killer Stammets who found his victims through his job as a pharmacist. After abducting them, he would bury his victims alive but in a drug-induced coma in a shallow grave in the wilderness and plant fungi on top of them. To feed the mushrooms and keep his victims alive, he would inject the victims with sugar water intravenously through catheters and give them air through tubes suspended in nearby trees above ground, it was long enough for the fungus to eat away any distinguishing characteristics. The bodies were discovered by three boys walking around the woods. He tried to kidnap Abigail Hobbs, pretending to be a doctor in order to connect her with Will Graham, but was shot in the shoulder and apprehended by Will before he was able to leave the hospital. 

Despite another success, Will’s health continued to decline, as he was put on the ‘Lost boy’s’ case, children who were being influenced by a strong motherly figure into killing their families by their abductor who wanted them to ‘burst for love for her’ a year after they were abducted. During this, Hannibal had continued his ‘manipulations’ to have Abigail associate Will and himself as ‘parental figures’ for the orphaned girl, unfortunately, Alana interrupted his plans. Will successfully solved the case, and yet another case was solved with his abilities. 

The next case involved Elliot Buddish, the ‘Angel Maker’ who’s bloody ritual included cutting the flesh of his victims backs and stretching it out to look like angels wings. Being back in the field was now beginning to take a serious toll on Will’s health, who had been ignoring his growing problems, which consisted of sleepwalking down a deserted street in Virginia. As the case continues, Will due to the stress of his job, his illness and prodding of Hannibal Lecter lashes out at Jack Crawford. Hissing out that he should get his own answers. The stress of his job was beginning to damage Will’s psyche and he knew this but continued to ignore it. His desire to be out in the field was…all he’d ever wanted. 

Will and Jack visit the farm in which Elliot's life-or-death experience occurred as a child, information they’d found out from his wife. It’s there they find Elliot Buddish dead, hanging from the rafters, angelic like his previous victims. This will be the last one. The failure to catch Elliot weighs on Will. He doesn't know how long he can go on with this job - it's killing him, and it's getting increasingly harder to get inside the minds of these killers. Jack says Will doesn't have to do it alone, but Will knows that's exactly what he has to do. Jack offers an ultimatum before walking back to the car - if he wants to quit, quit. Eventually…Will just couldn’t turn and quit after being able to get back out into the field and the minds of these serial killers…but was it his own emotions he was feeling or that of Jack Crawford?

Even if Will had decided to quit, Jack Crawford would not have allowed it. Not for long, due to the fact that the ‘Chesapeake Ripper’ struck again, despite having not killed for over two years. The nurse was killed by a patient Dr Abel Gideon, who was incarcerated in Baltimore’s state Hospital for the Criminally insane having snapped and killed his wife and her family. Jack was ecstatic to think that the Chesapeake ripper had been caught, only for Will to tell him he saw the ripper but didn’t feel him. Gideon believed he was the Ripper but he wasn’t. Jack in all his seething wisdom decided to goad the Chesapeake ripper into acting, by bringing Freddie Lounds into the picture. Which resulted in the Chesapeake Ripper into retaliating by playing with Jack in turn, taunting him with a recording of Miriam Lass, a trainee that Jack allowed into the field against protocol. Then for his usual flare, the Chesapeake Ripper left Jack Miriam Lass’ arm with the cell phone which had recorded the message to Jack earlier in her hand to cause him further pain. 

Will continued to do his job while Jack was not only burdened with his wife’s illness, her impending death as she had stage four lung cancer. Jack instead of dealing with it, became determined to find the Chesapeake ripper, finding it easier to deal with than his wife. Unfortunately, for will, he wasn’t able to give Jack the news he clearly wanted, who wanted to believe the ‘Organ Harvester’ they were chasing was in fact, the Chesapeake ripper. It was not, in fact, it turned out to be a part-time paramedic Devon Silvestri…and on another note, the Chesapeake Ripper – whom Will now knew the identity of – threw a grand dinner party, having killed four victims. 

The next serial killer had actually murdered someone in order to ‘serenade’ them. Of course, with the killers best friend Franklin, in therapy with Doctor Hannibal Lecter, who broke patient confidentiality in order to tell Will that Franklin’s best friend Tobias Budge wanted to ‘open someone up and play them like a cello’ leading the profiler straight to the serial killers door in order to see what would happen. Which resulted in the death of Franklin and Tobias in ‘self-defence’ by the ‘good Doctor’ who later proclaimed he may have a ‘true friend’ in Will. 

Will’s worse episode came when he was investigating bodies attached atop a totem pole. One minute he was at the crime scene…the next he knew three and a half hours had gone by and he found himself in Doctor Lecter’s office with no idea how he got there. It was during this time Nicolas Boyle’s body resurfaced, and Jack believed it to be the work of Abigail Hobbs and wanted her brought in. It was during this time that Will figured out that Abigail was responsible for Nicolas Boyle’s death, and when he went to Hannibal with this information…Hannibal confessed to knowing and having helped her clean up the crime scene. Will unethically, let it go, having no desire to see Abigail or Hannibal arrested for what he believed – and refused to contemplate anything else – was self-defence. Tying will further still to both Abigail and Hannibal in the make shift family Hannibal was trying to create for them. It was during this time that Abigail confessed to Lecter that she was in fact, party to her father’s legacy, and had helped him procure his victims by befriending them. 

Will continues to decline farther still, hallucinating and losing time, while trying to do his best to help the BAU, and Georgia Madchen who was technically a criminal but in reality was just a tragic mistake due to her illness, suffering as she was from numerous illnesses from Cotards syndrome. Which makes her believe she’d dead, and takes away her ability to identify with people’s faces, she mutilated and killed her best friends face deluded into believing she was an untrustworthy stranger. Hannibal during this time, set up an appointment for Will to be checked over, a scan, only to find out that he had no neurological problems. Soon afterwards, the doctor was killed in a similar manner of Madchen’s kill of her best friend. And the kill was placed on Madchen’s shoulders.

Meanwhile Will continues to deteriorate at an alarming rate, with nobody around him seemingly figuring out that something was very wrong. Regretfully, it was the one downside to someone who just did not care for people or social interactions. How was one supposed to know how badly off Will was when they didn’t know him? To make matters worse, Doctor Abel Gideon escaped from Baltimore’s State Mental Hospital and proceeded to try and lure out the real Chesapeake ripper, while trying to find himself, after the unethical psychic driving he underwent while in Doctor Chilton’s care who wanted him to believe he was indeed the Chesapeake ripper in order to get the fame and recognition of having the Chesapeake ripper under his care the entire time and having finally caught him. Will’s delusion of the ‘stag’ returns and he follows it, which eventually led him and Gideon to Doctor Lecter who convinces Will that Gideon is a figment of his imagination. Which allowed Gideon to escape, his desire to see what would happen if Will was pushed once more. Gideon went straight for Alana Bloom, a friend of Will’s and a fellow physiatrist. Will went after them, succeeding in shooting Gideon before he collapsed and ended up hospitalised. 

A comb was left in the chamber of Georgia Madchen, who accidentally sparks a fire inside her hyperbaric chamber and is burned to death. Angered, Graham deduces that several recent murders were all the work of a copycat patterning after recent serial murders, and that Georgia was killed because she may have remembered the face of whoever had killed Doctor Sutcliffe. Finally, despite his mental impairment was beginning to put the puzzle pieces together. It was during this time Will’s mental state was finally noticed by Jack Crawford. Will released himself from the hospital and proceeded to take Abigail back to Minnesota determined to catch this copy cat killer. There he finds out for sure that she was indeed party to her father’s crimes and could no longer remain in denial. Abigail fled when Will deduced her secret…and that was the last time he saw her. 

Following his trip to Minnesota, Will gets taken into custody by Crawford for the probable murder of Abigail Hobbs. They find her severed ear in his kitchen sink and her blood under his fingernails. Alana is left devastated by the arrest and is determined to find the cause of Graham's dementia, despite Crawford's insistence that there is no underlying cause. Katz, Price and Zeller examine Graham's homemade fishing lures and discover that four of them have included elements of human remains, whose DNA matches all four victims of the copycat killer: Cassie Boyle, Marissa Schur, Doctor Sutcliffe and Georgia Madchen. Graham escapes from custody while being transferred and goes to Lecter for help, only to have Lecter demonstrate that it is feasible for him to have murdered all four people. Graham convinces Lecter to take him back to the Hobbs house in Minnesota, where he finally comes to realize that it was Lecter who called to warn Garrett Jacob Hobbs about his impending arrest and that Lecter has been manipulating him ever since to see how someone with Graham's unique ability would operate. Crawford arrives and stops Will from killing Hannibal by shooting him in the shoulder. After realizing exactly who Hannibal Lecter actually was…the Chesapeake Ripper. 

Will is hospitalized, where his encephalitis is finally discovered and he is placed in a protective coma while undergoing treatment before being transferred to Baltimore’s state hospital for the criminally insane. 

That was three weeks ago. 

"You let yourself get close to a physiatrist?" finally asking a question after listening to Will talk for the past hour about everything that had happened. Surprised despite himself, Will loathed physiatrists, for good reason, they wanted to 'get inside his head', believing he was entirely unique, when in reality he wasn't, he was just one of the rare empaths born without active magic. Then look what happened, the one he actually got close to apparently played him like a fiddle.

Muggle Empaths were dangerous, and that had been proven in the past, they had no mind shields to help them, but even those born without active magic could create mind shields with effort. They were literally driven insane by the constant influx of emotions of those around them. The book he had left, if he had ready it would had explained all that. He seemed stable and happy after leaving the front lines. More fool him. He could have driven himself insane. 

Still could if he wasn’t careful.

“He’s the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will admitted, “I couldn’t see it,” he stressed out. 

“Hardly surprising,” Harry stated, “Your brain was on fire. It’s curious isn’t it…tell me, Will, why did he let you live?” gazing at Will with a knowing look on his face. Yes, he was familiar with the Chesapeake Ripper, not just because of the conversation he’d just had with Will. He was familiar with everything that came through Baltimore, and what he hadn’t known he had just gotten updated on pretty damn fast. 

“I don’t know,” Will replied, “I didn’t…” 

“Yes you do,” Harry retorted immediately, not caring that he was interrupting him, cocking his head to the side, was Will that deep in denial? “Why?” 

“He wanted to wind me up and watch me go,” Will admitted bitterly. 

“You didn’t need to survive for that,” Harry pointed out, “You know what he is, you’re a danger to him. All it takes is one person to believe you and it causes a domino effect…why would he let you live when no other has been allowed?” all the time Will had spent with this Hannibal Lecter surely he had a good read on him by now…unless this illness had affected his abilities, which it hadn’t it just took longer for Will to figure it all out. 

“Because he’s lonely,” Will admitted inhaling sharply, the admittance opened the floodgates so to speak. He’d only done this once, become one with Nicholas Boyle, it’s how he’d realized Abigail had killed him. Whether it was in self defence or not…well that was in question now. “He wants someone who can understand, a friend,”

“And?” Harry added, guiding his brother along to the answers. 

“He understands me, wants me to be free,” Will confessed before shaking off the connection, refusing to feel it any longer. 

Harry nodded, “Sounds about right,” 

“I will never forgive him for Abigail,” Will stated firmly, staring at the ceiling if it would give him answers. 

“Abigail Hobbs is very much alive,” Harry informed Will flippantly, “I know of every single person who has passed on and she is not on the list.” He was the Master of Death. The magical world called him a Necromancer, just as the Peverell’s had been rumoured to be…due to the fact Harry wasn’t about to reveal his true nature to them. The only reason it had gotten out was because he had been stupid to trust Granger and Weasley. Who had shown their true colours soon after the defeat of Voldemort, and his utter disregard for Ginny Weasley, whom he had no desire to ‘reconnect’ with. Thankfully it was before he had figured out everything in the grand scheme of things. 

“What?” Will croaked out hoarsely, disbelief warring with denial. 

The outer door buzzed open interrupting their conversation. 

“It seems our conversation for today is over,” Harry stated standing up, “Don’t worry, this will all be over soon.” he would make sure of it. 

“Where are you going to stay?” Will asked, hope brewing within him, Harry was powerful, magical, intelligent, if anyone could help him…it was him. “Do you still have the key to my place?” 

“I was going to head to a hotel, and yes, I do,” Harry told him, as the next door opened, their time was definitely cut short. He was hardly going to discuss anything while the interlopers were standing there. 

“Then stay in in the house,” Will offered. Harry knew Wolf Trap, had stayed in the farm house for months when they’d both been younger. Before he had told him he wanted nothing to do with him, trying to protect him from the growing darkness brewing within him. 

Naturally he was unaware of Harry’s own darkness. Harry was the only person other than Hannibal he hadn’t been able to read (for a while with Hannibal)…regretfully Harry’s Occlumency barriers had proven too effective in hiding everything, otherwise…well, who knew how things would have turned out? 

“I’ll bring your dogs home, shall I?” he offered as the last door opened, Harry ignored them focused solely on Will. 

Will smiled, a real, genuine, smile regardless of the latest blow of finding out Abigail being alive. The betrayal he felt was staggering, and he wasn’t sure who to direct it towards, Hannibal, Abigail or both. Nothing could make him feel better than just thinking or the mention of his family of strays. 

“Times up,” Chilton ordered, trying to put on an aura of authority, pissed beyond belief that the conversation they’d just had wasn’t known to him. 

Harry just snorted, not even attempting to hide his scorn, “I’ll be seeing you,” he commented, but whether it was to Chilton or Will…nobody knew. 

Chilton blanched, but made no effort to escort Special Agent Harry Potter out of the building, leaving that up to the guards. Deep down behind all the bravado and false smug superiority was a coward, a fake. 

You didn’t need to be Will Graham to see it. 

Nor did you need to be his brother Harry Potter. 

\--------0

Hannibal exited his Bentley, unobtrusively looking around as he locked his car and made his way into his home. Taking a great inhale, to ensure nobody had been in his domain, and he would know his sense of smell was so acute that he could detect cancer before symptoms emerged. He’d done so quite often, starting from one of his professors in school as a youngster and of course, most recently Will who he knew was suffering from Encephalitis, the fevered sweetness was unmistakeable. Bella Crawford, who was suffering from stage four Lung cancer was another example.

Hannibal contemplated emptying his freezer as he hung up his scarf, jacket and gloves. The thought was abhorrent to him, but when compared to his freedom, there was no comparison. Still, he had not expected what happened today, Will had always been unpredictable, despite everything, and it always excited him. He could confess in the weeks since…were boring to say the least. 

He had not expected to miss Will with the ferociousness that he did. 

However, before he could think more on the subject, as he had begun to do, he froze upon entering his dining room, zoning in on the figure brazenly sitting on his chair in his home. how on earth had he gotten in? His scent saturated this room and no other. 

Dark green eyes met his, observing Hannibal right back with a wicked smirk that showcased his amusement at seeing Hannibal so wrongfooted in his own home. 

\------0

There we go, bit more understanding for those who haven't seen Hannibal :) so will everyone know about their relation or will it remain hidden with nobody knowing about the 'incest' part so to speak :P what will become of Abigail? Will the little wolf need to be killed off to protect them? Or will she simply be obliviated and found? how long will it take for Will to forgive Hannibal for setting him up? What shall we see Will do in retaliation? Will Alana be in a relationship with Hannibal or shall we leave that part out? Or will we have fun at her at her expense? R&R please


	3. Chapter 3

Roses Under Cypresses 

Chapter 3 

The moment Harry was clear of Baltimore’s state hospital, he apparated to Wolf trap, his shoulders relaxed as he stared at the familiar sight in front of him. After gazing at the farm house for a few minutes, somewhere he’d been sure never to see again…he eventually reached out and opened the door. The layout was very familiar, and Harry smiled a little at the reminder. The upstairs never got used, even when he’d been there, he’d slept on the sofa. One look around he was dismayed at the sight. The place was a mess, the forensic unit hadn’t hired anyone to repair the damages they’d done while tearing it apart looking for evidence of Will’s supposed crimes. 

Green eyes gleaming coldly, pursing his lips, then they peeled back into a soundless snarl. This was Will’s home, his safe harbour as he liked to call it. His fortress of solitude from humanity, where he could just be himself, surrounded by his pets. Flicking his wand, he cast a dozen spells, all of them zooming off to get to work, as the house righted itself, cleaning floors, tables, chairs, the kitchen, bed, even the diesel engine at the side of the chair, drying everything, repairing damaged items, and getting rid of dust and dirt leaving behind a pleasant scent of a thorough cleaning. Spoiled food and drink floated into the bin, which was prompted tied up and zooming out the back door into the bin outside. 

While the spells did their job, Harry removed his bag, which had been kept in a locker while he visited Will. No attempts had been made to get into it, otherwise they would have been in for one hell of a shock. He removed his laptop, and turned it on, moving to the cream seat, directly across from the chimney, which had been badly repaired, but was currently being corrected with Harry’s magic. Crossing his legs, he got comfortable, and begun the process of looking into Hannibal Lecter. Ignoring the broom sweeping the floor at his feet as he did so. 

He was Lithuanian-American, he is the eighth in his blood-line to bear his ancestor's forename. Born to Count Hannibal Lecter and Simonetta Sforza-Lecter. Harry blinked, disbelief enveloping him, this guy was really living up the family name…Sforza which meant…she descended from both the Visconti and Sforza families, who separately ruled the magical and mundane Milan for a total of 250 years. It was a well-remembered wizarding/name family, way back when, as far as he knew, they’d had two daughters, twins, the first born had been a squib, second born inherited the family fortune. Simonetta had been that squib daughter, apparently she’d married a Count, probably ended up better off than her whole family combined. Simonetta had two children of her own, a son, Hannibal Lecter, and a daughter years later, Misha Lecter. Inhaling sharply, not needing to read further to know that Misha Lecter’s fate had been a horrific one. Carlotta Sforza married and rare for that time kept her name, but had no heirs for either family. Which meant Hannibal Lecter was the last of quite a prestigious bloodline.

If his last name used to be Lekter, then he may well actually be descendant from a vampire, Giuliano Bevisangue – Bevisangue ironically means Blood-Drinker - a feared and ruthless wizard from the 12th-century Tuscany, and from the Machiavelli bloodline! Oh, Harry couldn’t help but be fascinated, he couldn’t wait to meet him. If only he hadn’t messed with one of the few people Harry cared about still left alive. 

He then inputted Chesapeake Ripper into the computer, and files began to appear in tabs, sorted by last name and the date the case file was opened. Considering the copycat murders were Hannibal’s as well, it stood to reason that it wasn’t Hannibal’s first time using that means to kill using another’s MO. It was…ingenuous really, he’d know just how many Hannibal had killed when he met him, and he honestly didn’t think he’d be surprised by the numbers. Especially upon noticing that Hannibal was questioned and suspected to have been ‘II Mostro’ in Florence. His home was searched, but no evidence and no ties to the war criminals, he was released and returned to the States afterwards, Baltimore to finish his residency if he had his calculations correct. Normal law enforcement wouldn’t get that information, not even the FBI. 

Once familiar with the address, Baltimore Maryland, he Apparated to the place of residence. His sharp gaze looking around where he’d found himself, impressed but not at all surprised by what he was seeing. The walls were made from stacked wood molding’s that had voluptuous curves or simple geometry. The wood was stained indigo blue, Harry could see it surrounding Hannibal and his audience in the color of the night sky. There was a huge landscape as a backdrop. Its gothic tone, adding to the room, it was perfect, almost like an early Jackson Pollock painting. Taking a whiff, his gaze narrowed in on box shelves that house live herbs in containers. The horns, the pictures, the chandelier, it was almost as if everything had been strategically placed, which, it probably had. 

Smirking wryly, he took a seat, pondering on how to best deal with this guy. He was dangerous, there was no denying that, intelligent and methodical he’d been killing since he was a teenager at least and got away with it each and every time. Not that he had to worry, he couldn’t die, all Hannibal would do was piss him off even more. 

Still, to have gained Will’s friendship he had to be interesting. Although, he wondered, was it Hannibal’s darkness that Will found interesting, or his intelligence and the persona he showed the world? 

The sound of a car brought Harry out of his musing, eagerness filled him. It had been a long time since he had any fun. He listened intently, for any further sounds, but he didn’t hear anything until the front door was being opened. He had noticed the lack of alarms, too secure in his own ability to protect himself. 

Crossing his legs, Harry relaxed his posture, and just waited, eyes gleaming brightly with delight. And what a delight it was, when Hannibal entered his dining room, and froze mere seconds before their eyes met his nostrils flared. Interesting, did that mean his scent of smell was greater than the norm? Something perhaps handed down by his vampire ancestor.

That was not all, death was fond of Hannibal Lecter. He liked him. 

‘Merlin be damned!’ he thought, of course, Death would like him. Amusement sprang up from his bond with death. Harry pushed down his own amusement before sending annoyance back at him. The bond had been there from the moment Harry realized what he was, accepted what he was and with it, his mortal life had been over. 

Death could take on a corporal form, but it was a ghastly sight to behold. The whole skeletal figure, black robes and the scythe…that Mundane was so fond off…well, they’d gotten one thing right. He could glamour himself, but chose not to do so, and if he did…he liked to fuck with you, he had a dark sense of humour which was an acquired taste. One Harry most certainly had and when Death had taken on the form of Lily Potter…Harry hadn’t spoken to him for months, Death at least had the sense not to do it again. 

“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” Hannibal demanded, never once raising his voice as he stared at the intruder. “I must ask that you leave before I call the police.” There was something about his eyes, they vividly reminded him of someone, and it didn’t take long for him to figure it out, Will, they may not be the same colour but in all other ways they were identical. That was intriguing. 

Harry chuckled dryly, “Oh? Go ahead I’ll wait, it would be an amusing conversation to be sure, will you be telling them that you’re the Chesapeake Ripper as well?” 

A thin lair of Hannibal’s ‘person suit’ vanished, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He commented, eyeing up the predator he had found in his dining room. It automatically clicked that this was whom Will had been in contact with, the reason for his cancelled appointment. Was the conversation being recorded? Was he being goaded into revealing information? He would be in for a long wait, he was not someone so easily manipulated. “You must understand that dear Will is confused, his mind is under immense strain…” 

“Don’t,” Harry commented, “I know very well what is wrong with Will, I know everything. Count Hannibal Lecter…you’ve certainly left a whole lot of destruction in your wake from Lithuanian, Florence, Paris and of course…here, admittedly quite a few of them deserved your ire. Will Graham wasn’t one of them.” not getting angry or defensive like Hannibal probably wanted. 

Another thin lair of Hannibal’s ‘person suit’ began to unveil, “Who are you?” Hannibal asked yet again, remaining calm, even as a burst of adrenaline coursed through him. Wondering how on earth this man knew so much about him, not even dear Will could have deduced all this. “And I prefer Doctor Lecter,” he added absently, as if he wasn’t at all threatened. Plans were already mulling through his mind. 

Harry watched in rapt fascination, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. The desire to rip up that façade and see the true monster lurking beneath was strong and a heady response to knowing it existed. “I can see why Will liked you,” Harry commented, and it threw Hannibal, he could sense it rather than see it, since Hannibal didn’t react much, except a lift of his lip. He was pleased, Harry realised, by Harry’s pronouncement. 

“Harry James Potter, Lord of the Potter and Black estates,” Harry informed him wryly, “Turned down the offer of being a Duke.” Watching surprise filter through those reddish brown eyes. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he admitted. 

Disbelief visible in Hannibal’s features, staring at the creature in front of him in utter bafflement. “You did not feel you deserved it?” Hannibal asked, stepping further into the room, making sure his moves were none threatening. 

Harry’s eyes just gleamed in amusement, “Far from it, I definitely deserved it, but I didn’t want it.” finding himself amused by the attempts at figuring him out and manipulate him. Oh, Hannibal would find Harry wasn’t easily manipulated, not anymore anyway. 

Hannibal paused, staring at the young man, there was just something about him that screamed familiarity. He was almost positive they hadn’t met before, he would have remembered such vibrant eyes. “Why are you here?” utterly shoving his fascination aside, he was a danger, he knew too much about him, he had to find out what he knew, what he’d informed his superiors and whether he had to run or not. 

Harry’s eyes blazed with fire, “To kill you, nobody touches Will and lives to tell the tale.” 

“I’m hardly the first,” Hannibal commented coolly, “What is he to you?” surprised by the surge of jealousy he felt over this man having a claim to Will. 

When Harry moved to open his mouth, Hannibal lurched towards Harry, swift and agile as a cat light on his feet. Unfortunately, for Hannibal, Harry had anticipated the move and every move thereafter. “Oh, you’re just the first of many on my list Doctor,” sarcasm oozing as he thrust out and kicked Hannibal away from him, he just kept coming back for more, and without the usual anger that marred people. 

Each manoeuvre was countered with ease, and Harry never allowed Hannibal striking distance of his neck, not even in curiosity to see what would happen. Dying hurt like hell, and he’d rather not have it happening again. Even if it would be worth seeing the look on Hannibal Lecter’s face when he didn’t ‘die’ so to speak. 

“Getting tired yet?” Harry asked wryly, as he blocked another attempt to get within striking distance of his head. Kicking out his foot, which was gripped in a iron grip, Harry twisted around, kicking Hannibal in the face before flipping himself up, helped through the subtle aid of magic. He wasn’t the damn karate kid after all. “Shall we keep it up until your Judgement day?” his breathing becoming just a tad laboured. He probably shouldn’t be playing with his food, but he was just giving Hannibal a taste of his own medicine. He had to admit he understood why he did it. 

“Who are you to Will? He’s never mentioned you before,” Hannibal slid his arms out of his jacket, and toed off his shoes, pausing to wipe the blood off his face with his red handkerchief. More confident now that he knew that there was no recording devices upon Harry’s person. During the fight he’d had a good feel, as small as they were, they weren’t that easily concealed especially in an up close fight. 

Harry couldn’t help but snort at the actions, damn it, he wasn’t meant to find him amusing or charismatic. “No, I doubt he would have.” Harry said dryly, green eyes filled with merriment and devilment. “Disappointed that you don’t know everything about him?” disbelief tearing through him, was he actually folding up his jacket and handkerchief in the middle of a fight? 

“Yes,” Hannibal admitted, he had thought he and Will had become incredibly close, so close in fact, that he knew more about Will than most. Placing his jacket on the floor on top of his shoes before he swift like a snake rekindled his attack again. “It’s a pity, Will really shouldn’t have brought you into this,” Will would just have to find it in him to forgive him for this, but it was Will’s own actions that was driving this. 

“It’s amusing you think you’ve won, the reality is so far from it that it’s quite pathetic really,” Harry rasped out, kicking out at Hannibal who had managed to get his hands around his neck, only to get burnt and Harry rolled himself off the other side of the table. 

Hannibal had frozen on the spot, staring at his hands, which were still quite red, the only manifestation of the heat that had coursed through his body. He was not one for denial, he knew it couldn’t be anything but…other. This man was like Misha. She’d done the very same thing to one of their captors all those years ago. It had caused her to become feverish, lethargic and in the end the men had taken her from him and killed her. 

His pain was very real and very severe, it allowed Harry a glimpse into his mind. 

“Interesting, she gained the family magic then,” Harry commented, causing Hannibal to flinch out of his thoughts, before renewing his attack with renewed determination. Having not heard Harry’s statement properly. 

They were both beginning to tire, and Harry feeling very vindictive and angry, unleashed his MOD powers upon the man. 

“Hanni….Hannibal!” 

Hannibal froze once again at the sound of his sister’s pleading voice. It sounded so very real, and too close to the very last words he’d ever heard her say. 

\-------0

Oooo, rather vicious of Harry isn't it? To use his dead sister against him...BUT is she real? alive and whole or has Harry recalled her from behind the veil to taunt Hannibal further? I do need an idea to slay Harry's desire to kill Hannibal though LMAO because you know...I do need him alive for the story to progress :P R&R please and tomorrow The Contract will be updated :)


	4. Chapter 4

Roses Under Cypresses 

Chapter 4

Hannibal Lecter, a man of impeccable manners and stalwart control of his emotions was trembling. His hearing and Olfactory senses were telling him that Misha was here. Even after all these years, he knew exactly what she smelt like, what she sounded like. He hoarded the memories in his palace, refusing to forget her. His own senses were being tricked, it was simple remembrance, hearing her voice was deluding him that she was here. He was also not one for immersing himself in denial. He knew who and what he was, and it had never bothered him. Which made him realize, there was no way his little sisters voice had ever been recorded…which meant he was truly hearing her. 

Harry ceased his own attack, there was no honour in attacking someone who wasn’t fighting back. Staring at Hannibal with a surprised but pensive look on his face, realisation dawning upon him with swiftness. He turned let go off Hannibal and turned to look at the little girl. 

Misha Lecter was an adorable little thing, angelic, cherubic face, that would give way to high cheekbone as she grew, with blonde hair even while much too thin and clothes that were too large for her thin frame. The dress had at one point been blue, but was dirtied to the extent that it was difficult to tell. 

Hannibal was unable to help himself, he looked, expecting utterly that there would be nothing there. Everything in him believing he had been drugged or was hallucinating. Yet there she was, same age, clothed exactly the same as he’d seen her last before she was dragged out of their shared cell all those years ago. 

“Hanibalas, aš toks alkanas ... pavargęs ... Hanibalas,” Misha whispered weakly, laying crumbled on the floor without even the ability to raise her head. Telling her brother that she was hungry and tired, not even opening her eyes, too trapped in fever, too weak to do much of anything. 

Hannibal’s face spasmed, hearing the language of his birth place, a language he would never forget but rarely used. For the past few decades he had spoken mostly English and French despite his ability to speak and understand numerous languages. 

“She’s your anchor to your humanity,” he whispered, staring at the little girl, that little thing was Hannibal Lecter’s weak spot and anchor. When she’d died…Hannibal’s anchor had died that day too, “Could you stop for her?” he asked, not really taunting him, but allowing him to know what it felt like to be used as an experiment to see what they would do. 

Hannibal couldn’t help but reach out and touch, expecting his hand to go straight through. His touch didn’t, his finished brushed against feverish skin, pulsing and very, very much alive. He wasn’t sure how this could be, it was impossible…he couldn’t help but curl his hand into a fist, and dig his nails into the palm of his hand. It hurt a little, but he had a very strong pain threshold, blood oozed from the wounds. He was very much alive, his vitals stable, he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since lunch hours ago… and his sister was most definitely in front of him.

“Or would you kill and eat her?” Harry asked him, as Hannibal approached the girl, a look of such longing and love on his face. Oh, Hannibal would never kill or eat her, he could feel the love he had for her, it was…immeasurable. She was one of the few people Hannibal had truly loved. One of the rare humans he didn’t see as ‘pigs’ as it were. 

Hannibal’s face became stoic, a blank mask for the carving, but his eyes were filled with fire as he stood. His gaze turning to face Harry, despite his exhaustion he was determined to pay him back for this but also honour him for giving him this gift. 

“Well, hello,” Harry murmured, “There you are, I see you,” he was finally, finally, face to face with the Chesapeake ripper. Probably one of the few who had seen beyond the veil he showed the world…beyond those who had died of course. “I like you, it really is too bad…” feeling a smidgen of regret, for he knew Will despite his anger liked Hannibal as well. 

Hannibal was just about to move, to render, to rip, to tear, to shred. His need to protect, to kill outweighed his curiosity on this man, and how Misha came to be there. He had only taken one step when he was halted. 

“Hanibalas kur mes esame?” Misha asked, eyes half-mast, clearly not seeing what was in front of her, but nonetheless thinking she was still with her brother…who was decades older than she’d seen him last. 

“You may want to answer her,” Harry commented, suitably distracting him. 

“You understand…” Hannibal was stunned, it was so rare to meet someone who understood Lithuanian. 

Death cautioned him against his current actions, especially if he wanted Will to be a free man without a single doubt. That they needed Hannibal Lecter, all it would take was the copycat to reveal himself as the Chesapeake ripper to allow Will to go free. Well, aware of what the future could be. To think if he had not accepted his new status…he would never have found out about his brother. If he had remained a normal wizard…he’d have never found Will.

“I understand every language created, and some that have yet to be so,” Harry said calmly, unperturbed by the promise of death and retribution exuding from Hannibal. “Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end of manipulation is it? Would you be so willing to do what you do when there is the possibility of backlash on her?” changing gears, he never dismissed death’s advice, for unlike Dumbledore…Death was omnipotent. 

Which meant his current path did not involve victory for himself and Will. Which was strange, Harry wasn’t one to tolerate failure let alone perceive it. He had magic at his disposal, he could make it all go away with a flick of his wand…normally. Apparently that wasn’t the case here at all. Did the magical world find out? He was watched rather closely, they feared him after all. 

Of course, Death had his own agenda, but Harry would forgive him, when he had everything he wanted on a silver platter. Thank Merlin he couldn’t see what the future held, that was a gift for him and him alone. 

“What do you want?” Hannibal straightened up, sensing the undercurrent of change within Harry. Those words alone indicated that things had suddenly changed, that plans had changed. He might be a physiatrist but he had nothing but disdain for psychology; he did not consider it a science, criticizing – if only internally – it as puerile, and finding most psychology departments were filled with ham radio enthusiasts and other personality-deficient buffs it however, served him well and suited his purpose. It helped that he knew how to read people. Not that it mattered, this man would not be leaving this house alive. He knew too much. 

Harry straightened up, his gaze speculative, “An accord,” he told the man, “One in which we will both benefit.” Giving a nod towards Misha, who was curled up against Hannibal’s leg, once again unconscious. She would need a magical replenishing draught, it was the cause of her fever but the starvation she’d been through had definitely not helped both the fever and the magical depletion. 

Hannibal narrowed his eyes, taking it as a subtle threat for what it was. “Continue, if you please,” Hannibal stated, as always polite, finding rudeness vulgar, and only pigs were rude. 

“Be aware, that trying to kill me is futile, and attempting it will just piss me off.” Harry said, with deceptive mildness, slightly put out that he wasn’t going to kill him after all. He had hurt Will, and not many people could say they had done that. As reclusive as his brother actually was. “What I want…is to see Will freed from prison. Which means…it’s time to start another sounder,” a sardonic grin, it was ironic really, that they called them that before they truly understood Hannibal’s mindset seeing his victims as pigs. “Time to combine the copy-cat and the Chesapeake ripper into one neat little bow.” 

Hannibal stared at Harry, so carefully hiding his disbelief, “You’re a special agent, why would you suggest such a thing?” suspicious and speculative enough to believe that this man was actually trying to set him up. His lips twitched in amusement, as if he would be stupid enough to fall for that. Although he didn’t believe he was being recorded…it did not mean that there wasn’t something set up to record everything regardless. He would need to go through his home with a fine-tooth comb. He would anyway, he was meticulous about his home and always made it clean and tidy. 

“Why am I not surprised you’re keeping an eye on Will from even inside?” Harry stated dryly, “You were a Doctor of the body and now the mind, you’re supposed to help people but you elect not to do so. Our profession rarely reveals who we really are, don’t you agree? Despite the outside only ever seeing a facet of what we show the world. Plus, you are smart enough to know what kind of people are drawn to law enforcement.” Psychopaths, in other words. 

Hannibal gazed pensively at the man, gauging the truth, his maroon eyes flickering down to his sister. He was definitely more than just an officer of the law, that was very clear. The desire to strip him down and figure out what makes him tick was strong. 

“The last person who attempted to manipulate me…died an agonising death.” Harry said giving Hannibal an wickedly amused look. He couldn’t help himself could he? Then again, this was the first time he’d been exposed to magic, and quite frankly it as understandable. Harry just wasn’t fond of the method the good ‘Doctor’ would employ. 

“You have two days exactly to do as I have asked.” Harry informed him, “If not…well, you won’t know anything has happened by the time you’re seeing the other side. You won’t be the only one, her being here is contingent on your behaviour. Keep Will out of your games.” He demanded. 

“And how do I get in touch with you?” Hannibal asked with feigned politeness. 

Harry grinned, it was all teeth, “I’m living at Will’s in Wolf Trap, I’m sure you’re more than familiar with the place?” green eyes gleaming vindictively, just begging him to try something so that he might show him exactly what he was capable of. Removing his card, he used his magic to float it over nearer Hannibal, “My card…do refrain from putting it in your Rolodex.” And with that, Harry apparated out of Hannibal’s home, giving his last warning that he could appear anywhere at any time. 

Nowhere was safe from his ire. 

Staring down at the still form of his little sister, Hannibal realised…if this was a dream…he didn’t want to wake up. 

It soon became increasingly clear that 

\-----------0

“No, Jack, after what you did to Will…find someone else,” Alana argued on the phone with Jack Crawford, refusing to help him after the way he treated Will. Throwing him away as though he was expendable after promising to take care of him and make sure he didn’t go too deep. She should have made sure he didn’t go out onto the field, shouldn’t have trusted Jack at all. It wasn’t a mistake she was going to make again. 

She also refused to believe Will’s assessment that Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. He was ill, mentally impaired. Once he was better he would realise Hannibal was innocent as well, of that she was certain. 

A knock at the door had the dogs barking, and milling around the front door. 

“Hold on a moment,” Alana said with more politeness than she felt Jack deserved. Glancing at the time on her watch, she wasn’t expecting anyone. Placing her call on hold, completely disregarding Jack’s demands still coming through. “Beds! Now!” 

The dogs just wagged their tails, excited beyond reason refusing to listen to Alana, no matter how well trained they were and how often she said it. With a lot of cajoling she managed to close the door so they couldn’t get outside and opened her front door. “Can I help you?” she asked, seeing a stranger on her doorstep. 

“Are you Alana Bloom?” Harry enquired, keeping his distance. 

“Yes, I am she,” Alana said, “Can I help you?” she repeated, wondering who on earth it was. 

“I’m here to collect Will’s dogs,” Harry stated firmly, they were going to be where they belong, in Wolf Trap. As lovely as this place was…it was nothing on Wolf Trap and the freedom the dogs usually got. 

“What?” Alana asked, gaping in shock, eyes wide. 

“The dogs,” Harry said as though he was conversing with someone particularly slow. Unimpressed with what he was reading from her. Unstable indeed, his dislike immediate and immense, despite the fact she had indeed defended him, which was her only saving grace. “I’m here to take them home.” 

“You know Will?” Alana cautiously asked, having no intention of handing over the dogs to this stranger without Will’s say so. 

“Yes,” Harry replied, giving her a look she deserved for stating the obvious. Not parting with further information, willing the door to open, the dogs immediately swarmed out to greet him. He smelt like Will, like Wolf Trap, of home, so of course, they would immediately began sniffing him and wagging their tails. Harry patted each of them, treating them with the reverence they deserved, since they were so precious to Will. He hadn’t been keen on dogs, ever since the ripper incident in his childhood, but he’d quickly gotten over that, since he’d lived with a pack of dogs with Will for a time. It was impossible not to begin to care for them, and a few of them even recognized him after all this time. Many though, were new additions since he had gone. They were all mutts, and mutts lived significantly longer lengths of time than pedigree dogs.

“I cannot just let you take them,” Alana said almost defensive with jealousy that Will was trusting another with the dogs. “I’ll need confirmation from Will first.” 

“I hardly need your permission to take them,” Harry said, finding himself amused with her shifting thoughts and emotions. It was pathetic really, how jealous she was over Will having another person whom he trusted to take care of his dogs. “They do belong to Will, and I am taking them home.” he knew all the cues that Will taught the dogs he adopted. 

So with that, he whistled sharply, “Come,” with that the dogs immediately followed, Harry immediately stalked towards the drive way, where a white van was parked, ready to cart them off home. He couldn’t risk using magic on them, so he would endure the long drive back to Wolf Trap. 

“Who is Will to you? He’s never mentioned you before,” Alana tried to catch up with him, but Harry was already closing the doors of the van with the dogs in comfortably. 

“Because he would tell you everything?” Harry asked blankly, staring at her as if she was a particularly troublesome irritant as he moved to the driver’s side, thankfully remembering which side it was on. “You know as well as I, how private Will is,” opening the door, he slid inside and closed it, opening the window, “I will reimburse you for the cost, just let me know how much it is,” 

“I really would prefer if you gave me a chance to talk to Will…” she started, but Harry pressed the button and the window rolled back up, the van then started and Harry begun to drive away. He had no desire to sit and listen to her prattle on. 

He had work to be done. 

Not only did he have to get the dogs back home, he had to check in at MACUSA, get his first assignment and ensure everything was above-board. Sign the contract and ensure his money went into the right vault. He didn’t work for free, and he was going to make sure he got well paid by MACUSA. The President could afford to hire him anyway, he was the best. He knew it, they knew it, and they were never going to get an offer like that again. if not for Will, they wouldn’t have had this opportunity.

The things you did for those you cared for he thought, as he drove, listening to the directions as he went. He knew Baltimore and he knew Virginia…but the way there? No, regretfully not, he had no need, he could Apparate wherever he liked. 

The adrenaline from earlier had yet to fade, this assignment was just the thing he needed. Unsurprisingly, he ached something fierce, no doubt Hannibal did as well, this fight wouldn’t be a Mundane one though, no, it would be a magical one…depending on who they send him after…he might let them live, might. 

He didn’t like being beholden to anyone, let alone Hannibal Lecter, which was why instead of sending the girl back…he’d allowed her to remain, to live out her life here. With the funds Hannibal had, he would have identification for her within days. If he had been a better person, he wouldn’t have tried using her, but he just wanted the guy to feel even a smidgen of what it was like to lose your mind after what he put Will through before killing him. 

He still might, the only reason his hand had been stayed, was because he was useful. 

That and because it had happened to Will, he would have the last say in what happened to Hannibal Lecter. 

Harry failed to take into account the sheer innocence that Misha Lecter could exude, and draw the ‘monsters’ – as many people would see them as – to her in a bid to not only protect her but her innocence in the world. 

Hannibal was just the first drawn to her orbit.

Pretty soon she’d have three very protective parental figures protecting her from not only themselves but the world that had failed her once before with zealotry. 

\------0

There we go! The next chapter! Will we see Jack next chapter or will it be focusing on Harry and Will with perhaps a bit of their history thrown in? R&R please


	5. Chapter 5

Roses Under Cypresses

Chapter 5

Harry had been quick in getting to MACUSA, signing the paperwork. He was still waiting on his first assignment. He had been in touch with the Mundane courts in order to bring Will's trial date closer. Waiting close to five months for the date was unacceptable, thankfully with his contacts, it had been forwarded four and a half months. Which means he had a fortnight to bring more than questionable doubt to the case. While Hannibal – hopefully – did what he had to on his end. If he didn't, he was going to be extremely unhappy with the cannibal.

Other than that, he was spending his time walking Will's dogs around the acres and acres of land surrounding Will's home. It was oddly peaceful, quiet, tranquil in a way, birds making noises in the early hours of the morning. It had been a long time since he felt serenity like this. His life had mostly been about hunting down and catching the rest of the Death Eaters. Just waiting for the day where he wouldn't have to watch his back. Which meant a lot of tracking, both magical and mundane, a lot of cheap and seedy hotels. A lot of fast food or food from vending machines. Years and years of it, honestly, he was so relieved it was over.

He'd just been waiting for the day where he could approach Will again. Where he could do so without fears and worries that someone would do something for payback. He'd already lost all semblance of family. He'd refused to lose Will too, the fact nobody knew was his saving grace really. He shuddered to think what could have happened if they did. Now, he'd come back to this, to Will in prison of all things.

Not exactly what he'd wanted to return to, but Will would be free soon enough. He was rather hoping it wouldn't actually come down to a trial. With the new slew of cases, he was hoping he'd gain an acquittal though the obvious that he was not guilty. Nobody in that courtroom would like him if he had to lay into them. Well, not him personally, he'd need to find a damn good lawyer.

"Winston!" Harry called in warning, as the dog took off a little too far from his liking. They were getting close to a little dirt road that nobody other than locals use. Tractors, cars, dirt bikes the like. He'd gotten well of the beaten track so to speak, so with a single whistle, he turned the other way. He was quite quickly joined by the pack of dogs, keeping up with him while playing with one another.

Half way home, his phone began to ring.

Harry glanced at his watch, perplexed, it was awfully early for anyone to be getting in touch. Still, regardless of the early hour, he fished out his phone, the number unfamiliar, area the code was Baltimore. "Hello?"

"Is this Harry Potter?"

"This is he," Harry informed the male owner of the voice, wondering who the hell this was.

"Harry James Potter?"

"Yes," Harry tone became curt and annoyed, "What is this regarding?"

"Will Graham?" it came out a question not an answer.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Barry Fisher," he hastily explained, "Jack Crawford is trying to get permission to take Will Graham out of Baltimore's Hospital for the Criminally Insane for the day."

"Ah," Harry said, realizing who it was, he'd never spoken to him before. "Thank you." With that Harry hung up, well, he'd just see about that. Jack Crawford would need to think again if he thought for a second, he was going to get to continue using Will for his own gain after what he did.

Making a quick phone call, he slipped his phone into his pocket, it was time he met this Crawford.

Harry scooped up the tiny dog, that definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with everyone. Then he began a fast jog back to the house, it hopefully shouldn't take him more than fifteen minutes.

By the time they got back to the house, the dogs were panting outrageously, even Harry's own energy was flagging a little. The dog might be small but she was very heavy after a while. He was off just by three minutes, eighteen minutes it had taken.

Jogging up the steps, he opened the door and the dogs piled back into the house. Putting the dog back down, Harry grabbed their water bowls and filled with them water, adding big chunks of ice so it would remain nice and cool for a while.

He then fed them, using Will's normal recipe, they way they'd guzzled it down they'd definitely missed their normal food. There was no crap in the food Will gives his dogs, only the best for them. Made him wonder just what Alana had been feeding them, tinned dog food?

Giving them all pats as he passed them, he flicked his wand and cleaned, dried and ready for the day. Leaving them to eat and drink their fill, normally he would have waited at least an hour before feeding them after such a long walk. Unfortunately, he didn't know when he was going to make it back.

Summoning his jacket, he slid it on, yawning as he did so. He didn't remember the dogs wakening him and Will up at the ass crack of dawn in the past. Had that become their new routine with Alana? Getting up so early? Stretching out, he slid his shoulder bag over his neck and locked the door. Not that he needed to, he'd know if anyone so much as approached the house.

Harry made a beeline for the car, shrinking it down to toy size. Apparating to one of the few blind spots BSHCI had. Everywhere had blind spots, they're strategically placed, all over the world. So that people could Portkey and Apparate safely, without affecting or being seen on CCTV cameras. All the mundane avoid the areas, so it wasn't as if they were about to Apparate to a spot that was 'popular' and find themselves recorded. It was a decision they'd made in the 80's when CCTV began to be put into operation, but solidified in the late 90's.

Righting his car, he drove it up by the security guard and handed over his credentials and was allowed to drive on through. Although, honestly, he could have kept driving the guard looked ready to drop any second. He must be coming up to the end of his shift, not that he could imagine a lot of people coming to BSHCI very often in the night.

He found a parking spot as close to the building as possible. Exiting his car, he locked it as he made his way inside as quickly as possible. He had made it so that he was the only one able to see Will during his incarceration. He had full control over Will as it were, having applied for Conservatorship over Will. He'd been informed it was the best way to go in Mundane law so Harry gave them the go ahead. He'd immediately stopped the psychiatric meetings he had with Chilton.

"Sir? Doctor Chilton would like a word with you? Please follow me," one of the orderlies requested of him, a no-nonsense voice.

Harry glanced at him coolly, before giving a curt nod. He was only doing his job after all, and judging by the stress lines on his face, it was little wonder he was always brisk. Harry followed the orderly, upwards instead of going downwards towards the cells.

Harry tapped his foot while the orderly knocked on the door, "Come in!" came the reply, the orderly stuck his head in the door, "Special Agent Potter as you requested, Sir,"

"Bring him in," Chilton said, his voice perking up a little.

The orderly opened the door a little more, letting Harry enter before closing the door behind him. Leaving Harry alone in a room with Chilton. Harry glanced around the room, finding it filled with all manner of things. Taking centre stage was his awards, certificates with books taking up the entire wall behind him and his ornate desk.

He wanted to give the appearance of being well read, intelligent. Which he had to be, in order to pass and graduate with a Master's. The books however, Harry noted, most of them were unread. No cracks in the spine, no discoloration, they were there for display only. Moving towards the seat, he smoothly sat, face impassive, refusing to break and ask what he wanted.

It didn't take long at all for Chilton to break under Harry's inscrutable gaze. He'd reacted the same way he had the day he visited Will. He liked to appear confident but it was a shell, hiding an insecure frightened man behind it. Although, don't get him wrong, Chilton was a rather handsome man.

"What do you want with Mr. Graham?" he questioned, eyeing Harry speculatively, trying to figure out the guys angle. He was absolutely terrifying, that stare, hell, not even his own patients instilled that sort of hair-raising fear he felt when in the room with this man. "What's your angle?"

"Angle?" he repeated blankly, Harry found it a good way to get people to reveal more than they intended.

"Everyone wants something from Will Graham, whether they admit it or not. A pay rise? A promotion? Help finding the latest serial Killer?" Chilton questioned, "To profile someone?" unfortunately, he didn't know, the entire time the agent was with Graham he heard nothing, evidently, he had some sort of audio scrambling device on him that his orderlies had missed.

"I don't want anything from him," Harry declared, making his face a little too innocent.

Chilton smiled blandly back, "I'm sure." He replied, before going on to say, "Perhaps we can both benefit from…an accord so to speak."

"Oh? How so?" Harry asked, crossing his legs, why was he wasting his time here when he could be talking to Will? Part of him was also curious how much rope he should lend the good doctor before he hung himself. The more time he spent in the man's presence, the farther he could read his mind so it wasn't a total loss.

"Allow me to give Will the help he needs," Chilton explained in faux concern.

Harry snorted, "I have zero interest in the help you can give Graham," purposely using his last name. Regardless of name used, it was true, Harry most certainly wasn't interest in the help Chilton wanted to give Will. The slimy bastard had been using practices that could see him disbarred from the psychiatric world. What he was doing…wasn't only illegal but very unethical and had resulted in the death of quite a few people. Just for a bit of fame, it made Harry sick to his stomach.

Not even murderers deserved what he had been doing to them. To be stripped of your sense of self? He wanted to do this to Will? Was doing it to other prisoners under his care? No, it wasn't to be borne. He was going to have to do something about that.

"There is a lot of money to be had in the book I intend to publish," Chilton got down to the real reason he wanted Will Graham in his office again. He was sure being a Special Agent paid moderately well, but not as well as he could ensure. "How much do you want?"

"About Will Graham? Without his permission? Without my permission?" Harry questioned him, amusement lacing his voice. "I am Will Graham's Conservator; I am basically an extension of him." A subtle smirk playing across his features. It had been all too easily accomplished with Will's current predicament.

"Yes," Chilton agreed, eyes gleaming with greed and envy. "How much?" when it came down to it, it's all people really wanted. Money and fame, it was just how the human race were inclined.

"It sounds like you're attempting to bribe an officer of the law there, Chilton," Harry warned, he was bored of this conversation. He had everything he needed, including where the Muggle kept his journals, he kept on his …experiments. It was all the proof he would need for Mundane court of law. He pondered on whether Chilton could be arrested for the murders Gideon committed, after all the guy had been created by Chilton.

Chilton straightened, eyes sharply narrowing in on Harry with caution. Had he been reading him wrong? No, he probably found it difficult to get by with a government salary. "One thousand dollars for each session." Pushing the boat out, testing the waters. He doubted the guy was recording the conversation so it would be a 'he said' 'he said' sort of deal and he was sure it wouldn't go anywhere. "Will needs help, and if this is the only way to go about it, then I shall do what I need to in the best interest of my patients." It didn't hurt to be too careful if he was recording it, he would write it off as concern.

"As lovely as your own personal brand of concern is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline." Harry said with more politeness than the man deserved. No need to make him any more wary as is, not until the police show up at his door to arrest him.

"Two thousand dollars," Chilton upped the ante, not quite ready to give in. He supposed he could continue his interviews without the special agent's approval. He could just bury the paperwork at the bottom of his desk and plead ignorance.

"Really, there is no money you could offer me that will lead me to accepting your generous offer." Harry informed him; it was really insulting to be honest. Two thousand dollars was pocket change to him, pennies really when you think about his entire estate. It was probably a lot of money to Chilton though. He worked for the government after all. "Now would you please see to it that I am escorted to Wills…cell," his distaste obvious when uttering the word.

"Two and a half, my final offer," Chilton cajoled, under the impression Harry was playing hard to get.

"Truly, Doctor Chilton, you're barking up the wrong tree," Harry told him, taking a little bit of pity on him. Why must everyone think fame is everything? It was…a horrendous gross invasion of privacy. Perhaps he saw it differently…but he knew fame intimately, knew it like the back of his hand. It wasn't something anyone should aspire for. Yet Muggles did it constantly only to whine about it afterwards. He'd get fame alright, just not the kind he was hoping for, lets put it that way.

"Very well," Chilton sighed, as if it was a hardship, "Here's my card should you change your mind." It had his personal number emblazoned on it; he could only hope that the Special Agent would change his mind.

Harry actually contemplated ripping it up and throwing it around the room like confetti. It would be amusing to see the look on the guys face. In the end he just slid it into his pocket, refraining from rolling his eyes.

"Williamson! Escort Agent Potter to Graham's cell," Chilton called out curtly, as they stepped out of his office, before the orderly could approach, Chilton stepped back into his office and all but slammed the door. Clearly upset with how the meeting had gone, he wasn't one who tolerated failure well. Despite how often failure bit him in the ass.

"Follow me, Special Agent Potter," orderly Williamson gestured for Harry to come, and with that both were off in the direction of the lower level. Being buzzed in through gates, the CCTV camera's watching their every move.

Their journey was spent in silence, the Orderly having nothing to say. Neither did Harry, as a matter of fact. Before too long, they were at the last gate which would grant Harry admittance to the level Will was in.

Only once they were there did the orderly begin speaking.

"…don't hand the prisoner anything…" Harry barely listened, Will was no more a danger to him than a toddler. Not because Will wasn't dangerous when pushed…but because he could trust Will at his back. They were brothers after all. Admittedly nobody knew that much.

"…do you understand?" the orderly finished, waiting expectantly for Harry's answer before they proceed.

"I do," Harry agreed, even though he hadn't heard more than a few words. He hadn't listened the last time either. Too eager to see Will and find out what the hell was going on.

With that the door was open and Harry walked through, the orderly let him go in. Harry stalked down the hallway, not even glancing in to see the other prisoners. Which he thought was diabolical really, there wasn't even a hint of privacy to be had. Not even to do the toilet. Prisons did give a little bit of privacy in prisons so that prisoners could relieve themselves in privacy with a little barrier.

"Good morning, Will," Harry said giving his brother a genuine smile, noticing that he looked much brighter and a whole lot more hopeful than when he saw him last.

"Harry," Will murmured, his tone still filled with worship and awe.

"I've gotten you a trial, it's been moved up," Harry explained, "Here I brought the book. Read it, it will be…liberating," he couldn't believe Will had just discarded a book on his own gift. It would have made everything so much easier for him if he'd read it. Then again, the stubborn idiot would have thought nobody could know his own gift better than him. If that's all the book was about, Harry would have entirely agreed with him. Putting the book through the opening, he closed it again. "Don't be stubborn about it, believe me, it's extremely informative."

He would have asked how the hell Harry found it if he hadn't known about magic.

"Hannibal is also going to be helping in your release from here on his end," Harry informed him, clearly entertained as he sat.

Will blanched, realizing exactly what Harry meant, "Can't you just find Abigail?" that way nobody else would have to die. Nobody deserved for the Chesapeake Ripper did to them. Their deaths were horrific even if the tableau was…beautiful, the elevation to art was a sight to see.

"Feeling parental, Will?" Harry questioned, cocking his head to the side, "The people you're drawn to." He sighed the hilarity of it not lost on him. "Me, Hannibal, Abigail…she might not have done the deed but she's definitely a budding serial killer in the making."

"Her dad forced her," Will refuted that statement. He knew it was a lie, even as he said it. He'd just gotten so used to defending her from everyone who said she played a part. Especially Jack from the get go.

"Because you can only feel fond of her if she's not involved and not a killer?" Harry asked blankly, what on earth was wrong with Will? He was so very different from the young man he used to know before they parted ways. "You really need to stop teaching at Quantico, all those emotions have bled into you…you're very different from what I remember." It wasn't disgust, anger or disappointment that enveloped Harry, it was merely worry. All those hopeful faces, wanting to do good, to change the world, they'd bled into Will and fundamentally changed him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Will grumbled, thinking on what Harry had said, he made a good point. He knew she was involved; his empathy had told him as such, even at the height of his illness.

"Seriously? All those emotions bleeding into your own psyche, when you get out, I'll give you a potion that will purge everything not your own feelings from you." Harry said seriously, "Is there anything you'd like to do when you're out?" he'd need to go to a trusted source for it. He couldn't brew that particular potion, it only took a week, so by the time Will got out it should be ready. Any Potions Master would relish the challenge of that specific potion. It wasn't needed often, and rarely brewed.

"Go home to my dogs," Will said, the longing in his voice tugging at Harry's gut.

"That's a given," Harry said, "They had me up at half four this morning, we spent hours walking around…I had forgotten how beautiful and serene it was there." He freely admitted, it loved that place. It was…family, home, peace, might not actually be his name written on the deed but it was home. The Dursley's, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place…those weren't home. He had been too young to remember Godric's Hollow. Even the other houses he used were all temporarily, all roads he envisioned had him here, with Will. "I fed and left more than enough water for them until I get home." Slipping up without noticing how he'd referred to Wolf Trap.

Will hadn't and he felt a big surge of happiness, he always felt as if Wolf Trap was lacking when in company. He'd felt a little embarrassed letting anyone see it. All his furniture was old now, faded, the kitchen…actually everywhere could do with an upgrade, and of course, the dog hairs and engine parts and his fishing gear strewn everywhere. Despite that he still wouldn't change a thing, would never change for anyone. To hear Harry, refer to it as home made him feel happy.

"What I meant is what would you like to eat?" Harry questioned, "The potion is going to take a lot out of you, you'll be bedridden for at least a day or so…depending on the damage." Giving him a look that screamed 'You're not getting out of it' no matter how much he tried to avoid it or talk his way out of it. The quicker he could get Will out of this hellhole the better.

"Anything, as long as it's not the slop they serve here," Will replied, sliding off his bed to get the book before making his way back. It was the only way he could remain seated, and he quite frankly didn't want to spend hours standing in order to talk to Harry. "What have you been doing? These past few years?" since we saw each other last, went unsaid but certainly understood.

"There's plenty of food in the house," Harry reassured him, "I even followed your recipe for the dog food, prime cuts."

Will smiled, "They're all healthy?" he spoiled his dogs, yes, but he didn't normally get prime cuts for them. Too many dogs to spoil them with prime cuts if he was honest. He did buy them treats, chews that would last them a long time, for the ones that still had teeth.

"Definitely," Harry assured him, "Although, Alana wasn't very happy with me."

"She's just protective," Will admitted, "She's a good friend." Probably the only real one he had; Hannibal had turned out not to be a good friend after all. Although, he did sort of consider Beverly and the others friends…or maybe acquaintances? The list of people he actually cared for was astonishingly short and he could keep track with his hands.

"Is she?" Harry asked, noticing the pause.

"Yes," Will replied, she'd been the only one to go to bat for him when he ended up in here. She thought he'd done it, but only because of the illness. Harry hadn't needed to ask whether he did or not…he wasn't sure what that meant though. The thing was…he was capable of what he was being accused of. Everyone was, but all the emotions, he'd been close to snapping even before his illness began to degenerate. The stress of what Jack was putting him through, it was only a matter of time. Will idly flipped the book open and closed, that was until he heard the gate buzzing.

It couldn't be time for Harry to leave yet? Could it? He'd only been here for fifteen-twenty minutes. Last time he'd been here for hours…although he'd need to ask how he managed to get access…unless he used magic?

Harry didn't remove from his spot, nor did he seem particularly surprised by the intrusion Will noticed. Narrowing his eyes, wondering what was up, who was coming? He wasn't ready to see Hannibal so he best not be there. He knew immediately when he heard the footsteps, Hannibal was silent. He knew who it was before they stepped into view.

"Jack," Will said, straightening up, his gaze automatically trailing away from the agent's eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" Jack demanded of Harry, like a bull in a china shop.

Will cringed a little, Harry wasn't going to take Jacks approach well. He watched the scene through his long fringe curiously. Making sure not to meet Jack's eyes.

Harry slowly turned to face Jack, "I'm sorry are you talking to me?" looking behind him as if he expected someone else to be there.

"There's nobody else there," Jack barked impatiently, "I need your help," already dismissing Harry and talking to Will.

Harry slowly smirked, crossing his arms as he stood, eyes gleaming coldly. "I don't remember giving you permission to visit." He told the special agent in charge.

Jack turned to face Harry, looking him up and down before dismissing him and his words.

"You're coming with me to the crime scene," Jack continued on.

"Oh, no he isn't," Harry remarked darkly, "And if you make any attempts to do so, I won't just have you arrested for abducting Will but I'll make sure you lose your job."

Will watched the two Alpha personalities face off, only Harry had anything to back up his 'alpha' status so to speak.

"This has nothing to do with you," Jack barked out frustration clear.

"It has everything to do with me," Harry informed him, "Did you actually get a judge to sign off on your scheme?"

Jack smugly handed over the piece of paper that gave him permission, making a gesture for the others waiting at the other end to come. Orderlies were coming down with a trolly, mask and a straight jacket. Harry felt a burst of fury thrumming through him, but only the fact the bastard wouldn't get his way stopped him losing his shit.

"This little piece of paper is not valid," Harry explained, smugness oozing from every pore. "You'll find that Will Graham has a Conservator, and you are most assuredly not him." Smacking the paperwork against his chest a sly smirk gracing his features.

As surprised and disheartened as he was to THAT he took delight in Jack's facial expressions. He'd seen him pissed off more than a few times, but he had never seen him go quite…like that. Honestly, if he was capable, he would have steam coming out of his ears.

"So, you can take that, shove it sideways up your backside and get the hell out of here you hypocritical bastard." Harry said sweetly.

Will listened as Harry somehow sounded polite despite his words. Hannibal would have been impressed.

"You have a Conservatorship?" Jack asked Will, giving him a look that suggested he was completely insane.

"Apparently," Will grunted, not sure whether he was happy with these events or not. It was certainly something they'd need to discuss once Jack was gone.

"Who?" he demanded; he'd just get permission from whoever it was. It couldn't be family, Will didn't have any family. It was usually family that gained conservatorship.

Will gestured towards Harry with a 'are you dumb' look on his face. Honestly, Jack was the head of BSU, you'd think he'd figure it out. Swallowing thickly when he noticed the stuff the orderlies had on hand. Jack really would have had him out of the prison to investigate a damn crime scene. Strapped in and muzzled like wild animal, something even he wouldn't do to an animal let alone a human.

"We need him," Jack said pleadingly, doing a complete turn. "He'd be helping us save lives."

"Then you need a better team, Mr. Crawford, how about actually putting in the work instead of using Will? He's not a sacrificial lamb you can lead to the slaughter." Harry said coldly, eyes gleaming with vengeance in mind. "Perhaps if you had kept your promises, you'd still have someone so loyal that it hurts to know it was wasted on you." His hand curled as if the urge to slug Jack Crawford was almost too much to bear.

"And your motives are entirely altruistic?" Jack protested, turning yet again when he realized he wasn't going to get his way, but not so curt to burn bridges.

"My motives hardly matter," Harry said blankly, he didn't need to explain himself to this piece of shit. "Now as I've said you don't have permission to be here or see Will. I kindly ask you to leave before I call someone way above your pay grade." He threatened the guy with something he was sure would work.

Jack Crawford stood there, breathing heavily through his nose, looking ready to rip and tear Harry to shreds. Harry just straightened impossibly straighter, staring at Crawford, not even giving a little. The guy might be slightly taller than him, but he had been dodging bigger and angrier Muggles in the past. He would beat him if he did try anything. Even if he had to resort to magic. He'd do it. He played dirty to win, there was no good in honour if you were dead after all.

When it looked like Crawford would do nothing but try and stare him into submission Harry pulled out his phone. Pressing the button on the middle, and Siri came on, "Call William Clyde,"

'Calling William Clyde' came the voice.

Crawford looked ready to howl in outrage, turning on his heel he strode out the room like a wounded bull. Ripping up the paperwork he had to take Will out of BSHCI. William Clyde was Crawford's bosses' boss. The one at the very top of the food chain that could and would make Crawford's life very uncomfortable.

Hanging up, he shot off a quick text message apologising for calling and hanging up. Buttering him up with 'knowing' how busy he probably was, and informing him that Jack Crawford had tried to impede upon the law. Having a note of it would always be handy, oh, he was going to enjoy having Crawford by the balls before dispatching the lousy bastard.

"Conservatorship?" Will asked, his tone blank for the first time as he stared at his brother demanding answers.

Harry waved his hand, "I knew this would eventually happen, I didn't expect it so soon though. It's only legally binding while you're in here, the second you get out you are free of it." he didn't add 'I promise' since Will knew him well enough to know he'd never lie. Especially not to Will. Will was just as vindictive as him when wronged after all.

Will nodded, content with that knowledge, and with the looks that had graced Jack Crawford's face. He'd never seen anyone get the better of Crawford before. He could bend anyone to his will, he knew just what to say to get that to work after all. Harry wasn't just anyone though.

"As for what I've been doing…mostly tracking," Harry admitted, sitting back down once the last of the Orderlies was gone. "Hunting down the last of the Death Eaters, a lot of them were hiding out in Mexico, or here in the States. I caught the last one just before I hopped on the plane here."

"It took you years to do that with magic?" Will asked incredulously.

"They were constantly on the move, it's not as easy as it sounds, plus they can just Apparate away which begins the search all over again and there were dozens of them, I spent a year tracking Rodolphus Lestrange alone. Got my ass handed to me twice before I succeeded in catching him." Absently rubbing his arm where it had been severed, thankfully it was reattached before any permanent damage occurred.

"What's happening to all of them?" Will questioned, how long would they get?

"They're being executed," Harry replied immediately, "Dementors kiss, as far as I know there hasn't been a date set yet."

"As far as you know?" Will rose an eyebrow curiously.

"Kreacher will be bringing me my mail every day, I haven't read it this morning yet, so there may well be a notification." Harry explained, although anything from the USA would come directly to him, primarily MACUSA. "Yesterday he dropped it off just before lunch time, naturally, time difference." Which would make it about seven o'clock when Kreacher fetched the mail for him in the UK.

Will nodded, it was a lovely break from the utter silence he'd been enduring.

"Has Chilton left you alone?" Harry asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Surprisingly, yeah, your doing?" Will asked, elated that he didn't need to endure the smug prick.

"Of course, he was at me earlier, trying to get me to agree to let him talk to you," Harry said in amusement, "He thought two and a half grand would do the trick." Merriment in his tone.

Will laughed, shaking his head, leaning against the wall, evidently Chilton didn't know what Harry's entire estate was worth. Actually, come to think of it, he didn't either, but he knew that two thousand dollars was pennies to him. "He won't give up." Will warned him, "He tried for years to get me to agree to see him. This…" he gestured around him, "It all a dream come true for him."

"I'll be by every day to visit, even if I can't stay all day, if he does just tell me," Harry stated, "After that…I'll put my plans for him in earlier motion." A vindictive sneer planted on his face.

Will blinked, opening his mouth like he wanted to ask before snapping it closed. Perhaps it was best not to know. Harry said he – Will – changed…but the reality of it was, he had too. Or it might have something to do with the fact he was only meeting people who had wronged Will severely.

Of course, Harry would be showing a whole different side to himself to protect what was his.

\--------0

I've got no idea if I'm capturing any of the characters, characters accurately, but here you go! I hope you'll enjoy it, although would you like to see the gruesome Hannibal scenes written out? Will Harry join him or will that happen further down the line? I really do hope I'm giving the characters justice but hey ho if not it's not the end of the world...not sure i'll ever write another one though :) just like WDW! R&R please


	6. Chapter 6

Roses Under Cypresses

Chapter 6

Hannibal set about making himself a cup of coffee, in desperate need of one. He hadn't slept all night. He had been too busy caring for his sister…Misha. He could scarcely believe she was here and alive. He pondered on the subject of A Brief History of Time, how Doctor Stephen Hawking had believed once that the universe would stop expanding and would shrink again, and that entropy would reverse itself. Like a lot of science and minds, he later decided that he was wrong. Hannibal very capable of high mathematics – while nowhere near Hawking's capabilities – enjoyed trying to make the math fit, he was unfortunately, unable to come close.

Will once spoke of teacups, which had made him vividly recall one of his favourite parts. Recalling where the teacup fell off the table and smashed to the floor, in so many pieces it surely would be impossible for it to reassemble itself. Magic. The missing facet of Mathematics. 'The laws of science do not distinguish between past and the future' neither did magic apparently, he thought in reverence.

He could still recall the sickening feeling of finding Misha's baby teeth in the stew his captors had given him. Still vividly recall getting revenge on every single one of the people who had taken his Misha from him. Recall the grief and numbness that had enveloped him whole. Misha appearing hadn't 'righted' everything, but it made him a very happy man even if he had some explaining to do. How was it that she could be here and he could still recall what he did? Easy, apparently the laws of magic didn't distinguish between past and the future. It just was.

Despite the danger the man posed, Hannibal was so very curious about him. About magic in general, which his sister is said to have. He hungered for the information previously unknown to him. To better take care of his sister, to better know the world.

Removing his coffee from the maker, he was just about to take a sip when a knock on the door interrupted his silent but entertaining and enlightening thoughts. Pausing, he glanced at the time, perplexed at whom could be at his door so early in the morning. None of his patients knew where he lived, naturally, he took steps to safeguard his privacy. Will, wasn't his patient so he didn't count.

Upon opening his door, he found a young man, who spoke before he could get a word out edgewise, "Hannibal Lecter?" he asked, peering at the man before him, in awe of the house and the man before him.

"Yes," he said demurely, "Can I help you?"

"Package for you, Sir, sign here please," handing over the clipboard and pen patiently.

Hannibal found himself a little puzzled, he had not ordered anything. Nonetheless, he claimed the clipboard and signed the dotted line. Accepting the package that was given to him in turn.

"Have a good day, Sir!" the boy said, before he took off back towards his bike which was at leaning against the gate post.

"Thank you," Hannibal said politely, and after his opening rudeness, the rest of the conversation had saved his life. Not that the boy probably had a card for him to take. Closing the door to ward off the chill, he returned to his kitchen, and his awaiting coffee and began to drink it while he opened the package carefully.

Then in front of him was papers, a birth certificate, a death certificate, a passport – a dual passport – boarding pass stubs, which means Misha was a US citizen, he wouldn't need to find a way to get her a green card. He too was a neutralised American Citizen, and had been for years. There was also an ID card, and everything Misha would need to lead a life here in the USA.

There was a piece of paper with a handwritten note, picking it up he read the short but concise words, in calligraphy he liked very much.

These are all genuine, they will pass all scrutiny placed upon them. Everything is in the main databases, even the plane ticket. Focus on your task at hand, you have two weeks.

Two weeks? Ah, this young man had succeeded in ensuring Will's trial date was moved up then. He thought as he drank his coffee absently, he pondered on what to do while he was out, Misha couldn't be left alone, he had chosen Misha's room with care, she was to have the second biggest room in the house – his being the Master bedroom – and she was currently asleep with fluids and antibiotics in her weakened system. He had the perfect soup for her to eat when she woke up.

Silkie chicken in broth, it would help settle her stomach and give her the very much needed nutrients, just like dear will had. If having his sister back wasn't odd, having someone to talk to in his native tongue certainly was.

The problem was, if anyone saw her, they would immediately try to convince him to send her to hospital. Not that he would allow someone substandard to care for Misha. He was not only well equipped to care for her, but he had the qualifications to do so. Unlike other retired surgeons, he did not allow his abilities go to waste. Alana would be most vocal and she'd be the only one he'd be willing to trust with her care.

He wasn't in the mood to placate or convince Alana that he was perfectly capable. The lack of sleep would make him…rude and less polite in regards to his 'esteemed colleague'. Not all the coffee – as lovely as it was – would help in that regard. He would need to find someone to care for Misha, he couldn't look after her full time. He had his patients to see, and…extracurricular activities he liked to indulge in. Which was why he'd had no desire for children, despite not wishing for the Lecter line to end.

He'd never imagined this possibility, but he would work around it, he was quite flexible like that.

Picking up the piece of paper that Harry had written on, he walked through to his sitting down and placed it in the roaring fire. Much too careful to leave any sort of evidence lying around, even if on its own it wasn't incriminating. He'd been doing this way too long to even consider keeping it. Even if the calligraphy was beautiful, and it pained him to burn it. It had been hand written, he could smell the ink as it burnt.

Nonetheless, he had work to do, he did not know exactly what Harry Potter was capable of. He wasn't going to risk his sister for anything, not now that he'd just gotten her back. It was all he'd ever wanted, except for Will. if he could bring her here…it stands to reason he could take her away again.

For the next few hours Hannibal did what he did best, cooked and planned. He made soup for his sister, worked out his day. He called his patients and profusely apologised for cancelling their appointments on such short notice. Thankfully none of them were rude to his plight, and agreed they'd be just fine and they would see him next week. He was also grateful Franklin was no longer alive, he would have had a difficult time getting the man off the line. He had been extremely needy to the extent that he assumed they were friends and annoyingly showed up wherever he went. He'd certainly pushed him to the extent that he'd planned over a hundred ways to kill him and cook him. Normally he refrained from killing current patients so not to draw unwanted attention to himself. Thankfully, Tobias had given him the perfect opportunity, unfortunately, he hadn't gotten to harvest anything from either of them. Which was such a shame, although, later he'd made up for that, and hosted a wonderfully successful dinner party.

\----0

It was early afternoon Hannibal had just finished preparing to leave when the doorbell rang, Misha had been delighted by the food. No surprise, it had been a long time for her since she had food let alone decadently seasoned food. He didn't give her a lot, but had made sure to make plenty so she could have at least eight meals a day until she could handle the food. He did not wish to risk refeeding syndrome, now that in itself was a very dangerous condition. He had put a very mild sedative in her drink, which had promptly had her sleepy she had fallen asleep by the time he'd left the room. Sleep was best for her right now anyway.

"Jack," Hannibal said, blinking in hidden surprise at the head of the BAU at his home. "Come in," he said, when it was the very last thing he wanted. Leading him through to the kitchen, he made them some coffee.

"I went to your office," Jack said, his tone more accusing than mild, still riled up by his encounter with the special agent. "It was locked up."

"Yes, I've taken a personal day," Hannibal explained, but did not go into greater detail. He would have to at some point, either that or let one of the others inform Jack. He couldn't quite care either way. "How can I help you?"

"Have you gone to see Will?" Jack asked, standing watching Hannibal make coffee for them.

More out of habit, than actual desire to do so.

"I went to see him only once," Hannibal confessed as he handed over the coffee, curious about why Jack was really here. It was unlike him to come to his home; he could have called. "Just after he was incarcerated…I was distraught that I couldn't be of more help to Will and apologised for letting him down." Which couldn't have been more different from how it really went down.

He had not expected to miss Will as vehemently as he did. It had made him realize just how precious the man was to him. He had only missed one other in his life, and that was his sister Misha. Not even his parent's deaths had affected him thusly. Will…had astonishingly become someone he was very fond of, uncouth and curt as he could be. That should have been another clue, he couldn't abide by rudeness, yet when Will was so, it did not bother him the slightest.

"I need your help," Jack said, a scowl on his face, "I need you to convince a judge that Will Graham doesn't need a Conservatorship."

"I'm sorry he has a what?" Hannibal asked, his amusement carefully concealed, having a very good idea how it had happened and why. Even though he didn't like the thought of anyone having control over Will that wasn't him. Although, if it got in the way of Jack's machinations, he was all for it. He did not believe Will should be working for that man, and any attempts he'd made to make dents in the loyalty Will displayed to Jack failed.

"A judge granted a Conservatorship for Will Graham, for his duration of his stay in BSHCI." Jack bit out, temple throbbing showing his displeasure even if he attempted to downplay it.

"I see," Hannibal replied, as always, his emotions carefully concealed, but he did allow some 'concern' for Will to bleed out. "How does Will feel about that?" he had yet to see Harry and Will interact, he had no idea of their relationship…so he honestly couldn't say how Will felt about it.

"I didn't get a chance to talk to him about it," Jack admitted in dismay, he'd wanted Will to look at a crime scene, help him find a killer. That had been his primarily motive for going there, he hadn't expected his hands to be tied when it came to his criminal profiler. "Knowing Will, I doubt he's very happy."

Hannibal made a soft sound, neither agreeing or disagreeing. "While I am well respected in psychiatric society, I'm afraid I cannot help you, Jack." He said sombrely, rather amused by the head of the BAU coming to him for help. "I doubt you'll get the Conservatorship changed, not without proof that Will is in no need for one. Unfortunately, given his current status and location…there is every belief he needs one."

"We can get it changed," Jack refuted the statement, "Will doesn't even know him, its usually family or someone close to the recipient that's granted Conservatorship! If we can prove that Will is unhappy with these turns of events the judge will need to take that into consideration." He had been doing some digging, into the judge, who was without any skeletons in his closet unfortunately.

"How sure are you that Will doesn't know this person?" Hannibal asked Jack pensively.

"They'll have had no reason to cross paths," Jack stated firmly, there was way no way Special Agent Potter and Will knew each other. No, this was an attempt to get Will, to get him away from the BAU. Something he would not allow, he'd finally got a team he wanted, he would keep it.

Hannibal knew Jack couldn't have been more wrong. Agent Potter and Will knew each other very well, that sort of protectiveness did not come out of nowhere. They knew each other, and knew each other well, which he was envious of. "Are you sure?"

"I've never heard him mentioning a friend in the secret service, have you?" Jack said challengingly.

Hannibal allowed a little rueful smile appear on his face, "I was lucky Will would speak to me at all. Certainly, never made a mention of family or friends other than in passing. In my opinion he's a very private person." Which was all very true, he'd mentioned his father a few times, closed up and became rude when his mother was mentioned and never really revealed much about himself at all. Enough that Hannibal could glean what his childhood was like, but no, good Will wasn't one for taking about himself much at all.

"Would you at least visit to find out?" Jack asked exasperated, unhappy with the way the conversation was going. He'd expected Hannibal to agree immediately to offer aid. It's why he had the guy helping them where he could.

"I am not sure of my welcome," Hannibal confessed, tidying up his worktops absently. "Will made some very grave accusations regarding my person."

"He was sick, hallucinating, losing time, you heard the doctor," Jack waved off Hannibal's concern. He hadn't believed Will's claims that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, no, he was just sick. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same that Will wasn't the copycat killer. Now he could help without being a danger to society, so long as he could get this judge to cede to his demands.

It was almost perfect.

Except for one glaring annoyance.

Special Agent Potter.

"I am well aware of the symptoms of the illness Will endured," Hannibal said, giving Jack a look, disguising most of his disgust. He had been a surgeon, and was well familiar with a whole variety of illnesses, including a great many that Jack probably hadn't heard off. He was well aware of his previous profession. After all, he had been the one to butter him up, complimenting him while trying to get him to do Will's profile. Which he had to admit, he was very grateful he had. He had been cautious when asked, while having an in with the FBI would be intriguing, he also realized it could bring more attention than he was accustomed to. In the end the allure had been too great, and he'd agreed to meet Will. "Jack…it's very unlikely that I can help you, I apologise,"

"Just talk to him, see what he has to say about Agent Potter," Jack urged, he had absolutely nothing about the guy. His records were sealed, considering how high up he was it had been a shock to find himself denied. Not listening at all to Hannibal's concerns, no doubt Will would be grateful for the visit.

"Very well, I'll see what I can do, Jack," Hannibal pretended to cave in, he should probably inform Harry what Jack was attempting. If only to stay on his good side. It was unlikely that Jack would succeed, whoever Harry Potter was, he had connections if Jack was struggling to get answers.

"I hope so. We need Will Graham. He's helping save lives. Thank you for the coffee," Jack said, finishing it in one go, before he turned and left without another word. Practically stomping from the house, irate beyond belief at having to wait, rely on others…and more importantly, he had a damn crime to investigate.

Once alone, Hannibal allowed a small amused smile to spread across his face. There was something truly amusing about such a big man stomping around having a hissy fit. Or better yet, the Head of the BAU throwing a tantrum like a child denied his way.

With a small happy sound, Hannibal reached up for his rolodex, slipping through the numerous cards. Already mentally preparing and deciding on which meals to prepare with what ingredients. He'd have to cut up the meat into smaller proportions for Misha, of course, as tender as they'd be.

He normally didn't hunt until night-time, where the dark gave him the most coverage. Plus, most of the people on his rolodex would be working at the moment. He would work around it; he was very adaptable.

Plucking the card from its confines, perfect, plenty of nutrition in this one too. It would take a while for Misha to recover. He wondered what she remembered; what she could recall of the horror they had endured.

Without more ado, he began to gather everything he'd need. Misha would likely sleep for a few more hours, giving him plenty of time to bring his 'guest' back and have some fun. Then the real fun began later, he had contemplated doing a 'copy' of another serial killer that was running amok at the moment…but without Will…it was very doubtful they'd figure it out. It had been only Will who saw his 'copy-cat' killings for what they were he thought smugly.

His abilities had amazed and worried Hannibal in equal measures. Made him desire him and want to drug him to keep him on the quiet. He very often used other killers' methods as his MO, the Chesapeake Ripper was for special occasions. The rest of the bodies that weren't put on display were never found. He didn't always have the time to taunt the police after all.

It was just too bad he couldn't go to Minnesota for this, but time was definitely not on his side for that sort of travelling he'd have to do.

It didn't take much longer for him to drive his car to one of his less conspicuous cars – that was not registered in his name – ready to hunt.

\----0

Harry leaned patiently against the wall, his entire focus on the pub in front of him. Which was where his target was. Waiting for the bastard to emerge so he could take care of him. He always avoided bringing Muggles into wizarding fights where he could. Hence why he hadn't entered the quite secluded pub near the highway. There were a lot of bikers in there, enjoying a drink or two. Harry suspected it might be near their clubhouse, he eyed the bikes with contemplation. Some of them were amazing, the sort of bike he'd actually contemplate buying if he wanted to ride.

Hell, he was going to be spending most of his time in the Muggle world now. With a little luck, depending on whether he could get through to his brother. He still couldn't get over that, being able to say he had a brother. An actual blood brother, admittedly only half, but still a brother, still blood.

He'd been expecting his first target very quickly, and wasn't surprised at the rap sheet he had. Go figure Tristian would actually give him the worst of worst scum that walked the street. His reputation of killing most of his marks – even if they were wanted more alive – well, was well known. He wasn't going to fight honourable while getting his ass handed to him by someone who wouldn't have a problem killing him to get away.

He actually valued his life thank you very much.

That thinking had been the start of the rift between him, Hermione and Ron actually. It was almost as if they'd rather him fight fair and risk dying than dare to dirty his 'clean-cut reputation' and his status symbol of being such a good, great and very fair wizard.

Hermione didn't want anything to get in the way of her plans to be Minister for magic. Siding and sullying her reputation with Harry Potter would not be a good for her goals and plans. Ron understandably agreed with her, he was an Auror, expected to uphold the law, and be seen as someone good in the magical world.

They began distancing themselves from Harry, proclaiming their distaste at his actions. Merlin, that had hurt irrevocably, but he owed them, for if not for their actions…he may never have found the time to look through his vaults. More specifically his mums, wanting to be close he read her diaries, and he was ever so glad he had. He'd had more time than he knew what to do with without someone to talk to.

For he had found out there that he had family.

Their denouncement of him had the opposite effect they'd hoped. For the people were cheering Harry on. Desiring to feel safe again, for the scum of the earth to be taken off the street. Not just the public, but every case given to Harry – where he dealt with them his way – and they knew it meant the higher ups wanted it that way too. For a smart witch, Hermione should have realized that.

Ron was still to this day just a Auror, he hadn't received a single promotion or pay rise. As for Hermione? Still worked under Amelia Bones, she hadn't received any promotions or been accepted for any advanced positions and still received the same pay.

He was wrenched from his thoughts when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Harry never removed his eyes from the two exists available to his target. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he removed his phone, "Hello?" without glancing at who it was. He wasn't going to miss him after bloody standing here in the freezing cold for hours waiting on him. Not that he himself was cold, warming charms for the win. It was still not a nice night to be out here when he could be with the dogs.

"Agent Potter?" his voice slightly confused, no doubt at the quietness he was speaking.

"Ah, Lecter, can I help you?" his voice once more barely discernible over the phone.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" curiosity bled into his voice, no offence at the use of his last name.

Harry hummed, "Not yet, unless my target leaves," his tone quiet as not to be heard. The door opened, and the music thrummed through the night louder than normal. The sound of loud drunken conversation washing over the night.

Sighing softly, Harry took a few steps back, irritation thrumming through him. He was still in there; he could see him sitting at the bar drinking. The beauty of magic, he could see through walls and buildings without being inside of them. "What can I do for you?" he asked, speaking a little more loudly, since no doubt nobody would hear him over the racket at the front, all of them having a smoke before going back in by the look of it.

"I just wished to inform you I've begun our bargain and warn you that Jack Crawford is attempting to subvert your Conservatorship and have it transferred to someone else…likely himself." Hannibal explained. "He isn't a man easily deterred, he will use all his connections and then some to achieve his end regardless whom he must manipulate."

"The Conservatorship will only be in play for another week or so, it will be over once they release Will from prison." Harry told him down the phone. Depending how long it took them to decide that Hannibal's actions were those of the real copy cat killer and that it was not will.

"You hope to avoid a trial altogether," Hannibal deduced.

"Yes," Harry replied, "Will would find it entirely tasteless," he heard a small amused sound on the phone as if Hannibal found his remark funny. No, he'd rather not force Will to endure a trial, not with the emotions of a million people – primarily serial killers – roaming around in that empathic brain of his. Giving him the potion while he was in prion and vulnerable enough as it was, did not cross his mind for a second.

"Yes, he would," Hannibal agreed, pleasure lacing his voice.

"I have to go," Harry said, hanging up the phone, wand already out, eyes gleaming, ready to follow the son of a bitch. It was going to be all too easy, he reckoned, he was completely sloshed.

He was wrong, and found out just how the wizard had managed to take out so many bounty hunters.

Predicably, Harry still came out the victor, how could he not when he could not die? No, they just absolutely pissed him off.

And pissing him off just made his mood fouler…and guaranteed his targets death.

With the MOD powers…it could only be expected that he'd win.

\-----0

A/N – would you like to see Harry's fights or do you just consider it a side thing in which has no bearings? Or would you like to see one fight at least so you can get a measure of Harry's MOD powers? We'll see a detailed scene of Hannibal's lovely enactments (I hope!) in the next chapter too…how long realistically once the police ascertain it's the copy cat would it take for the person already in prison for it to be released? I know it's not immediate, there's a lot of paperwork involved, as much as Harry would like to use magic…well, he can't now the process has begun! Out of all my MOD stories this one's definitely going to have a more outright powerful Harry with the MOD powers called into play a LOT :D R&R please


	7. Chapter 7

Roses Under Cypresses

Chapter 7 

Harry twirled his wand in a circular motion, diving to avoid the first of the spells spat at him by his target. The blast of magic spat out of Harry’s wand was yellow sparks, and it landed in a circle around both him and his target and strayed over to the pub. Now nobody would be able to see or hear them, and the Mundane’s would be safe. Falling to his knees he careened to the side and leapt back to his feet. The adrenaline already pumping through him along with excitement and sheer jubilation. He loved duelling, he loved fighting with his targets, he’d come to love what he did. 

“Crucio!” 

Harry sighed in exasperation, why did they all have to be so utterly predicable at times? What was their fondness for the Cruciatus curse? It was like that was how evil guys were always programmed. He yanked himself to the side, avoiding the beam of light, flinging his own spell back, fire arrows spat out of his wand, aiming directly for his target. 

Which was avoided, the spells fizzling out harmlessly at the back of the dome he’d created. Which would not only keep his target in until the duel was over…and he was either apprehended or dead. 

“Oh, the glory I’ll have boasting about killing the fabled Boy-who-lived,” he boasted, “Bombarda!” 

“Protego!” Harry raised a shield and sent it blasting back at the wizard, “Dirumpo!” aiming at his wand arm, trying to sever it, one couldn’t continue casting spells without their wand after all. “You wish,” he told the wizard, eyes flashing the colour of the killing curse. 

“You should have stayed where you were!” he hollered, “Caeco!” trying to blind the wizard in front of him. 

“Tenebrae!” casting a spell and darkening the streets, all he could hear was the laboured breathing of the wizard before him. They were both vulnerable now, unable to see, “Stupefy!” don’t let it be said he didn’t at least try to bring them in to face judgement. He wasn’t like the others, he didn’t stick to ‘light’ spells, at least in Britain, America wasn’t quite so prejudice about any form of ‘Dark magic’ which made him think he’d fit in very well here. 

The wizard laughed darkly, “You’re all the same, pathetic! Deluminate! Crucio!” 

“I couldn’t agree more, you are all the same,” Harry murmured, able to see one more, too bad he didn’t have any of the Weasley powder, which now came with the ability to see in the dark along with the darkness powder, it would have been fun to play with his…target for a bit. “obstupefio,” trying to paralyse his target, with a rather dark spell that would render it permanent. 

“Avis! Crucio! Avada Kedavra! Imperio!” was cast in rapid succession by his target, averting his spell by using birds, that disappeared as soon as they were hit, bodies twisting uselessly. Harry fell to the ground, avoiding the Cruciatus Curse and rolled swiftly to avoid the killing curse, but the Imperius curse hit him full force. 

“Get up, come to me,” Liam Samson said with vicious amusement. 

Harry feeling nothing but amusement, decided to play along with the idiot for a few moments. Honestly, he knew whom he was, he should surely know his reputation that followed. One of the things that they knew about him was the fact he could fight of the Imperius curse…from Voldemort himself. His target was nothing on him. 

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Liam said, “Strip!” but instead of stripping, Potter punched him in the nose, breaking it instantly. Squealing in pain, his left hand coming up to his nose as the agony speared through his entire face. “Flamen!” and he was blasted off his feet and fell against the wards the wizard had up. 

Dazed he staggered to his feet, breathing through his mouth, finding it too painful to breathe through his nose. “Offoco!” he spat out in retaliation, “Episkey!” he healed his nose grunting at the pain of it correcting itself. Moving forward so he wasn’t stuck at the boundaries of the wards. 

“Nice try though,” Harry said darkly, “This one’s better excaeco!” using a much darker spell to try and choke his opponent, it worked much more swiftly than the one his target had attempted to use. 

“Accio!” and the motorbikes flew over not only stopping the spell, but one smacked violently into Harry knocking him clean of his feet, he only succeeded in preventing one getting to him by making it shrink. “Crucio! Confractio!” Liam cast while Potter was on the ground, winded and most definitely injured. 

The spell caused numerous ruptures, and Harry stopped breathing, his body going still. 

Liam smirked viciously, staring down at the wizard laying spread eagle on the ground. His body still trapped by the motorbike. “I told you,” he muttered, shaking his head, anyone that came after him would receive the same treatment. Maybe one day they would cease sending idiots after him. He cast a spell to check for a heartbeat and found none. 

He’d done as promised, killed the Boy-Who-Lived. Honestly, just how pathetic was Voldemort that this boy had gotten the better of him for years? Sad and pathetic so it was, and so was he apparently. 

He didn’t have his reputation by allowing bounty hunters get the drop on him. Once Liam was sure that Potter was dead, he removed the spell to detect his heartbeat. He turned away, flicking his wand tearing down the wards the wizard had put up. Then began to walk away. 

He’d barely taken more than a few steps when…

“Now you’ve just pissed me off,” the voice spat furiously.

Liam span around, shock clear as day on his face, “You were dead!” pale and shocked to the core. He’d definitely been dead, he’d killed him. He’d half expected him to be a ghost, but he most certainly wasn’t. 

The boy was whole and alive, staring at him angrily, injured still but impossibly alive. 

“Yes, and now you’re going to be permanently dispatched, can’t have anyone finding out, quasso!” Harry told him coolly, clutching at his side. 

Liam hastily tried to cast a shield charm, but he was too late, too shocked to act as swiftly. Potter had been dead, this sort of shit shouldn’t be possible, so of course he was too slow. The spell hit him, shattering every bone in his body. 

He was dead before he hit the ground, the shards imbedding in every single organ and then some. 

Breathing heavily, Harry scowled, entirely pissed off at the fact he’d died, again. It bloody well hurt, although the worst of it was breathing again it took days to warm up again after that. Shivering in cold, and presumably shock and blood loss. 

Grimacing in pain, he flicked his wand, and the bikes – all except one – rightened themselves back to their previous position. Unfortunately, there was not a damn thing he could do for the broken bike. Magic and motors – anything Mundane really – didn’t go hand in hand together. 

He banished the broken bike, better that they think it was stolen than involve the Mundane authorities which would have them baffled. Hopefully he or she had insurance, because they looked custom made and entirely awesome. 

“Sorry,” he murmured with a grimace, the Mundane’s were probably going to be pissed – in more ways than one – when they left tonight. Groaning in pain, still cold to the very bones of him, he grasped the portkey that had been created for this very incident – well both dead or alive – he wasn’t sure the President much cared. 

He levitated the dead body, keeping it afloat as he got rid of all the spilled blood. Then he summoned the dead wizards – because that’s all he was now – wand and pocketed it. grasping a hold of the corpse, he honestly didn’t think he had it in him to bend over a little. 

This was going to hurt, Harry thought, tensing as he muttered the words for the Portkey to activate. 

He was right, agony speared through him, he was only just able to stop himself screaming. Which would have terrified everyone working in the bounty hunter department. 

A pained grunt left his mouth though, gaining him attention. 

“Merlin’s balls! You look like you’ve been put through ten rounds of the blasting curse!” cried out one of the female bounty hunters, “Do you need a healer…Derrick get a healer immediately!” 

“No, I’m fine,” Harry declared before Derrick could so much as flick his wand to summon a healer to the Bounty hunter department. “You can take him though.” Flicking his hand at the body laying at his feet with an air of nonchalance. 

The two bounty hunters flicked their gazes down, “Dead then?” Derrick asked, craning his neck to find out who it was. “Bloody hell, that’s Liam Samson!” he was one of the most wanted, on the wall before them. 

“Yes, it was,” Harry said with a wry smirk, flicking his wand at the wall which was filled with pictures of the Most Wanted Wizards of MACUSA. Fiery red flames crossed out the wizard’s face, a tradition, bounty hunters did when they caught their bounty. 

“Alright, you need to sign a few forms before you leave,” Andrea explained, summoning the paperwork quickly, giving him a concerned once over. She could tell he was in pain; he was barely moving. Barely bloody breathing, and he was deadly pale. “You sure you don’t need a blood replenishing draught?” she asked, seeing the blood-soaked clothing. 

“Nah, I’ve got potions I’ll be fine,” Harry reassured them, and they were better quality than MACUSA probably had. Any decent potions master becomes independent, those that weren’t good enough to create and invent usually headed to places like the hospitals or MACUSA depending on the department. His body was still healing, if anyone did any spells, they’d see the damage that had been done and he’d have a lot of explaining to do. 

Something he couldn’t explain away actually. 

“Alright, here you go, just sign these and you’re free to go,” Andrea said, handing over a pen and paperwork. She’d filled it most of it for him so that he could get away as quickly as possible. Their people didn’t hound each other then they were hurt, it was a given that it would happen, it was practically their job description. You learned quite quickly just how bloody strong and stubborn the sons of bitches were. 

“Ta,” Harry said, his accent more noticeable today. 

“And welcome to the team,” she added with a little laugh, team, well, technically they were a team of bounty hunters, but they certainly didn’t work together often or at all when it came to certain people. They worked better alone for the most part. 

Harry’s lips twitched in amusement, inclining his head, not daring to laugh or worse talk overly much. Each breath was excruciatingly painful, and he was going to have to Apparate back home…too bad he couldn’t call Kreacher to pop him home. Now that wouldn’t have been painful, you didn’t feel anything while popping with a House-elf, it was like instant teleportation. 

“We have a work picnic coming up, y’all can get to know each other there, you interested?” Derrick questioned, bringing out a leaflet. Standing up, he moved over to Harry, stepping casually over the dead body of the wanted wizard to hand the leaflet to him. 

“We’ll see, my schedules a bit unpredictable at this point,” Harry informed them, sliding the leaflet into his pocket. Admittedly, it would be nice to get to know some like minded folk, the guys in the UK had been leery of him. These guys seemed unbothered by his blooded appearance or the wizard he’d killed instead of ‘apprehending’ which gave him the thought that it happened more often here. Hence, like minded people. 

“That’s always the case here,” Derrick nodded, standing back over the corpse, “A reserve team will be here for the day, they’re Auror’s full time, failed to get into the department full time.” 

“Not everyone has what it takes,” Harry agreed a little breathless, “I’ll try and make it, if not my apologies.” 

“You can bring a plus one, a friend, although it’s not exactly going to be kid friendly this one,” Andrea laughed, “Too much drink around. The one in the summer is more family orientated.” 

“Go on, get healed up, you look ready to drop,” Derrick interrupted her, it was true enough, he’d need a few days to recover. “I’ll get him taken down to the morgue.” Which ID tests would be run, make sure it was who it looked like, inform his family if he had any that is, then he’d be either dealt with by the Ministry – cremated – or handed back to his family for them to deal with themselves? It was the end of this particular career criminals’ activities and nobody here was going to cry about it. Not with the deaths he’d left in his wake. 

“Thanks mate, I’ll see you later,” Harry said, with that he shuffled to the Apparation spot, a few departments had them, the Aurors and this one in particular, had spots where you could Apparate out of MACUSA in a rush, or emergency. 

He bit back the scream of pain at the immediate feeling of dozens of dogs budging into him. All welcoming him back, fuck, that hurt, Merlin’s balls, they’re bloody killing him he thought frozen in pain. 

Finally, finally, after what felt like years, their excitement wore off…or they realized he wasn’t greeting them back. Inhaling sharply, he summoned his bag, before hastily delving in, grabbing his potions kit. He opened the box on the table and plucked out the three he needed desperately, before opening the back door, letting the dogs scatter into the wind for a bit. 

Slumping down on the seat, he yanked the cork out the vial with his teeth and drank the pain relief draught with great relish. Thank Merlin for potions, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to endure these next few days. The skin had knitted back together, he was just waiting on his body entirely repairing itself. 

Harry repeated the process with the other two potions, the blood replenishers. Inhaling sharply as the potions began to do their work. Merlin, he hated dying, sleepy and exhausted, he shuffled towards the door, watching the dogs careful. Making sure none of them made for the roads – which were miles away – but dogs could cover that ground very, very easily and quickly. 

Will would never forgive him if he let anything happen to the dogs. Hell, he wouldn’t forgive himself actually. Fortunately, they were very well trained, and had good recall, otherwise they wouldn’t be allowed outside. 

Will always trained the dogs immediately upon rescuing them. 

Leaning against the doorway, groggy, he realized he wasn’t going to be awake much longer. Shuffling indoors, he grabbed frozen chicken legs for them all and refilled the water bowls. The frozen chicken legs would do them a good few hours while he slept. 

Once that was done, he whistled loudly, getting the dogs all back inside. He counted them all, and let them grab their chicken as he made a direct beeline for the bed. He slumped down and that was the last thing he knew as sleep claimed him. 

His body needed to heal from the wounds he’d sustained. 

\------0 

Harry groaned, batting the incessant tongues laving at his face, what the ever-loving fuck? Shivering slightly, man he hated the cold, every time he died, he endured that kind of coldness for days. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was actually warm and the only cold part of him was his arm and face which were out of the covers…and not being squished by dogs. 

His eyes flashed open, heart pounding, he was warm…but that took days! Was his body becoming more accustomed to it? That didn’t feel right at all, flicking his wand he had the time and date flashing in red numbers and letters at him. 

Merlin’s bloody saggy balls, he’d been sleeping for two days! Guilt slammed into him, as he swiftly stood up staggering a little. Getting to the fridge he immediately put out dog food into the bowls, there was still plenty of water…shit, man, he hadn’t meant to sleep that long…he hadn’t done in the past. 

“I’m sorry guys,” Harry murmured petting them all, thank Merlin he’d fed them before he fell asleep so they’d only gone without for a single day. It didn’t make it all right but it eased the guilt just slightly. He added more food than they normally got, so he knew they’d be full. “That’s never happened to me before.” He murmured. Sleeping for all but two days, admittedly, he probably needed it, he’d been on the move for years now, hunting down Death Eaters and everything. 

“Good morning, Master Harry Potter, Sir,” Kreacher said, “I is been cleaning the house and fed the doggies and let them out for walks…don’t worry, I was being invisible.” 

“Thank Merlin,” Harry said, the entirety of his guilt fading, bloody hell, “Thank you Kreacher, that was…well done. I appreciate that.” 

“Your mail is on the table, sit down and I’ll make you breakfast before I go,” Kreacher demanded, his Master wouldn’t eat if he didn’t get reminded. Silly Master that he was, but Kreacher would happily remind him. “That…thing hasn’t stopped ringing.” Pointing towards the phone that was oddly in its charge. Harry knew he hadn’t done it, which meant despite calling it a ‘thing’ Kreacher knew exactly what it was. 

“My phone? Thank you Kreacher,” Harry said, bending down to retrieve it, the smell of breakfast already wafting in the air. Once he’d retrieved it, he sat down and checked his messages, voicemails and missed calls. 

A few were from Hannibal himself, entirely innocent out of context and Harry couldn’t help but be impressed. He was very good at what he did, he supposed Hannibal had to be, otherwise he would have been caught by this. 

He found the newspapers reporting that the ‘Copy-cat killer’ was in fact still at large. Today’s paper was about Will, narrowing his eyes he began to read the article, and found it was suitable. It spoke of Will’s impending release, which pleased him immensely but also surprised him. 

He’d thought for sure that it would take the idiots longer to figure out that it was ‘copy-cat killer’ although, it seemed that Hannibal wasn’t combining the Copy-Cat killer and the Chesapeake ripper into one. Just how many people had he killed to clue them in? 

He read all the articles and found pictures of the crime scenes in the newspapers. Yes, Hannibal had indeed been busy, three kills in the same manner as killers they’d already caught apparently. One of the men was spread out like an angel, another impaled on was that deer antlers? Oh, yes, he recalled that the first scene Will and Hannibal had worked on had something about a hunter turned cannibal serial killer killing teenagers. 

Sitting back in a contemplative manner, yes, things were going well. He wondered how long it would take before Will was released. “Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry said, when the House-elf brought him large plate of food and a mug of coffee, while scrolling through his contacts. 

Hitting call, he waited patiently for an answer, they all worked earlier so it’s likely he’d be awake. “Hello, Harry,” 

“Hey, when is Will Graham getting released?” 

“Officially? Tomorrow.” 

“Officially?” Harry asked narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

“Jack Crawford already making attempts to get him released early.” It was explained, “Jack Crawford has considerable pull…” 

“I know who he is,” Harry reassured him, “When is Will being released exactly?” 

“He’s already there pulling strings; I’d give it twenty minutes maybe thirty-five at a push.” They informed him, “I tried to get in touch with you to inform you that this might happen.” 

“I received your voicemail, thank you for alerting me,” Harry said sincerely. 

“You ever going to tell us why you suddenly want information on Graham so badly? He’s a Mundane.” 

“Yes, he is, Stuart, but only because he doesn’t have active magic,” Harry said wryly, “But he’s been…honoured with gifts that he has no clue how to use.” Not informing Stuart the real reason he was interested in Will; it was entirely up to Will what he wanted to do. 

“He has family magicks?” his tone taking a reverential one, “MACUSA would love someone like him around…depending on the gift naturally.” Each family had a set of gifts that they were known for that was passed down sporadically over the family lines. 

“Oh, they absolutely would,” Harry said smirking smugly, his brother was powerful, of course he was smug, just in a different way from him naturally. “I have to go; I’m not allowing Crawford to stick his claws in him again. Thanks for your help.” 

“Go ahead,” Stuart said, before hanging up, he didn’t even do the discourtesy of denying that’s exactly what Crawford was like. Magical or Mundane everyone knew the higher ups in the police forces in some capacity. 

He didn’t have time to drive all the way to Baltimore hospital, not in the thirty-minute window he had. He was not going to let Crawford sink his way back into Will’s mind, not when he still had dozens of others in there with him. 

“Kreacher I need you to get me this potion with a very trusted and reputable Potions Master, in either Britain or USA I don’t mind but I must have it in two hours.” Harry ordered, writing the potion down, summoning and then handing over a bag of gold coins, he didn’t want to rouse curiosities as to why he’d be buying that particular potion. 

He’d rather not be tracked so easily by being reckless. 

“Yes, Sir, Kreacher will,” the House-elf agreed, as bad as the start had been…he was so very grateful to Master Harry Potter. He was no longer wasting a way in a dirty town house being driven insane by his inability to do as his Master Regulus had asked of him. Now he had tasks to do and a Wizard to serve. A Master who was kind and cared, it was a novel experience…and Dobby had been lucky to have such a good Master. Even if he was a free elf, Kreacher knew Dobby would have jumped at the chance. 

Harry whistled, before summoning his car keys, he honestly didn’t know where anything was…if not for magic he’d probably have spent the next hour looking. He was still a little groggy, but he reckoned when he stepped outside, he’d feel a lot more alert. 

Plus, his brother was coming home. 

Low grade excitement was just beginning to clash over him. His brother was going to be back here in a few hours, home, with his dogs and him. 

“I will deal with the dogs!” Kreacher insisted, sensing his Masters urgency to go and do something else. “Then potion.” Keeping a tight grip of the piece of paper with the name and strength of the potion. 

Harry nodded, cleaned his clothes, ironed them, straightened them out before making for the car. Shrinking it down to toy level, he plucked it from the ground and smirked as he Apparated. If Crawford thought he’d get his way…he was sorely mistaken. 

He apparated to the blind spot he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Before finding a parking spot and returning the car to the correct size. Hopefully it would be the last time he needed to come here. 

He bypassed the main entrance, so that if Crawford was there…he wouldn’t be seen. He stalked through the halls, he’d been there a few times, nobody seemed overly surprised to see him there again, especially considering they thought he was a cop. Well, he was a cop, just not a Mundane one…well, bounty hunter right now he supposed. 

Speaking of that, he was surprised that Tristian hadn’t been back in touch, the president of MACUSA had hired him for a reason. He guessed he’d expected him to request another criminal brought in. He may draw it out though, keep him wondering when the next order would come, so that he worked for MACUSA longer. 

No doubt the bounty for Liam Samson was already in his account. He didn’t really do it for the money though, it was great fun hunting, tracking and apprehending the sons of bitches so they couldn’t kill anyone else. Although, if they managed to get the drop on him…he did have to kill them to keep his secrets. 

He would need to get the journals from the vault, so that Will could read about their mother. He deserved to know that he was thought about every single day of what was left of Lily Potter’s life. The regrets she lived with for abandoning her son, abandoning her lover. If it could be called abandoning, she hadn’t felt worthy of having him because of that. 

They’d never discussed their parents when they first got to know each other. Not wishing to tread on very delicate egg shells. Wanting to enjoy their time with one another, although it had taken Harry a while to get Will to believe him. 

He convinced or rather compelled one of the orderlies to let him through the gates, he didn’t want to have to wait for Chilton to agree that he could. He’d probably deny him since he didn’t have an appointment due to the fact he had been denying him access to Will. 

He made his way down to hear Chilton and Will talking, and Will scaring the shit out of the man. Harry grinned in amusement, yes, Will probably would have done well in Slytherin, the same as he would have done, had he not begged to go into Gryffindor, which was very Slytherin move all on its own. 

That’s when he spotted Will, and how he was dressed. 

“What on earth are you wearing?” Harry asked staring at Will as if he had an elephant for a head. Last time he’d seen Will in normal clothes it was suits, sure he looked like a boy trying to wear his fathers…but it was still suit’s, maybe due to his job? Was that really Will’s preference? “Were you fishing when they grabbed you?” knowing how much his brother liked fishing. 

Will looked down at his clothes, shifting marginally, “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.” It was suitable for a Professor. 

“Come on, let’s get out of this cesspit, no doubt there’s someone else waiting for you at the door.” Harry laughed, completely ignoring Chilton he wrapped his arms around Will and grabbed his head rubbing his knuckles against his head, “That’s for being an idiot!” 

“Get off,” Will grumbled, but he was muffling a laugh at the look on Chilton’s face. He honestly looked as if someone could have bowled him over he was that shocked. No doubt at him letting Harry touch him let alone their familiarity with one another. 

“Think that’s bad…want to see Crawford’s face?” Harry said slyly, grinning widely at Will. 

“Forget Crawford…how about Lecter?” Will said his eyes so similar to Harry’s except in colour gleamed in shared merriment. 

“You’re on…mind opening the door?” Harry barked at Chilton, bringing him out of his shock. 

Will muffled his amusement into Harry’s shoulder, freedom had never felt so good.

\----------0

A/N – so will Will get a job working with MACUSA? And be appreciated for the gifts he has with potions on hand to help him after he does his work? Shall we make his gift a little different than portrayed? A little more powerful with the purge enabling him to focus entirely? Will Harry eventually remain working for MACUSA while his brother does? Will they know they are brothers or will that remain a closely guarded secret? After all this is a Harry/Will/Hannibal story…will we see them all moving to New York in the end or will they remain at Will’s with a few changes to make everyone happy? 

Do you want to see Crawford’s reaction to a really chummy Harry and Will coming out of the doors? OMG I could totally write that out it would be so hilarious! I hope you’re enjoying it! You all wanted to see a fight and the MOD powers so I did both…hope it’s all you wanted 😉 R&R please!


	8. Chapter 8

Roses Under Cypresses 

Oh my gosh this chapter’s been next to impossible! I’ve deleted up to 2K twice! I suppose the upside is that the chapter won’t be deleted and re-written if I’m satisfied with it! 

Chapter 8 

It took them two and a half hours to get home, not only had they stopped for some food – seafood surprise, surprise crawfish and crab chips which weren’t actually so bad – and they hit rush hour traffic which was unfortunate. The ride home was quiet but comfortable. The rush coming with freedom will no doubt be affecting Will, along with Crawford’s sheer incredulous nerve. 

“He won’t give up,” Will said, staring out the window, tired but pensive. It would be good to sleep in his own bed tonight. Maybe he’d actually get some sleep for once. 

“No, not easily,” Harry agreed, glancing at Will briefly, “Do you truly enjoy working for the FBI as a criminal profiler and professor?” probably something best to ask him after the potion had purged him of all foreign emotion. “Being out in the field?” 

“You know it’s all I wanted to do,” Will said turning to face Harry, wondering at what his brother was getting at. “Unfortunately, as the saying goes, those who can, do; those that can’t, teach.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Bullshit,” he declared, changing gears, slowing down as they were met with yet more traffic. How was it a saying from a 1903 drama series could become so well known? “I know so many people who can do their profession and teach…in fact, quite a few sucked at teaching as a matter of fact.” Thinking of Severus, he was prodigious at Potions, but absolutely sucked at teaching. 

“You know I didn’t pass the psyche eval to go back into the field,” Will said, he didn’t even sound angry, just resigned. 

“Because you’re too empathic, absorbing everyone’s emotions isn’t good for you, Will,” Harry said soothingly, “Without that affecting you, you could pass your psyche eval and get back into the field.” He couldn’t guarantee Will that unfortunately, but he’d bet his fortune on it. 

Will just snorted, evidently not believing him. 

“What do you prefer doing being a cop or examining crime scenes?” Harry asked, changing the subject a little. When Will wakes up free for the first time in a long time, he’d see what he meant. Until then Will would just have to endure everything for a little while longer. 

Will shrugged, “I liked both,” both were significantly better than being a teacher, he hadn’t gone through all that training just to be relegated to the background. Part of him would always be grateful to Jack for getting him back into the field. He loved doing what he did…he just…he’d just wished Jack hadn’t done what he had and then abandoned him in the very place he feared ending up in. 

The conversation they had earlier though? That had made his fury at the agent even more prevalent. 

\----0Flashback0----

Harry smiled, feeling more content than he had in such a long time. Since the last time he was here as a matter of fact. Part of him regretted leaving, Merlin only knows what his vulnerable brother had been through since then. Yet, he couldn’t regret getting the scum off the street. The Death Eaters had been a continued threat to him, to Will, to the public, and it wasn’t something he could bear. It had been a long, long few years, but it was over now. He could get on with his life without looking over his shoulder. At least for the Death Eaters at any rate. 

“We can go through the back if you want,” Harry said, tightening his hold on his brother, who still hadn’t been purged of all those people’s emotions. He reckoned considering how much he trailed after his boss, that his boss had the strongest grip on him. Made sense since he spent the most amount of time with him. That and Hannibal, he wondered what he’d think of them once all the emotions had been purged from him. 

“No, I have to face him sometime, best get it over with,” Will said, but he honestly would have preferred to take the back route. Unfortunately, he’d never been a coward, antisocial, yes, but never a coward, he wasn’t about to start now. 

Harry hummed, shrugging his shoulders, it was up to Will. Plus, he’d be there, stop Crawford from getting his claws into him regardless. “Come on then,” opening the gate, the very last one holding Will ‘hostage’ the next door he’d be met with would be the front doors. “We’ll get some food before we head back.” 

“I can feed myself,” Will grumbled, almost on the side of defensiveness. He wasn’t used to ‘family’ and he honestly didn’t understand what family was or what it meant. He felt detached, like there was a window between him and them and he was just looking in. That was with a mind full of Empathy. 

“Really? Who would have guessed,” Harry sassed right back, not at all insulted, and giving back as good as he got as he’d always done far back as he could remember. “Here I thought you’d eventually be found half eaten by dogs having starved yourself to death.” 

Will ducked his face down, and grinned, out of sheer habit. Keeping his amusement to himself, correcting the glasses when they slid down his nose. Unlike Harry, he didn’t really need glasses. Not that Harry had any on now, but when he’d been here last, he’d talked about getting corrective surgery on them. 

To no surprise, as they rounded the corner, they found Crawford leaning against the bannister waiting impatiently. Chilton had disappeared at one point, neither had been paying any attention to him. which was probably intolerable to the attention hogging idiot, that he was. 

Harry chuckled at the look on Crawford’s face when he was spotted. Oh, he wasn’t happy in the slightest. Will glanced at him, just as amused, also pissed off with him to the extreme. Just recalling what he’d attempted to pull off, trying to get him out to crime scenes. Crawford had never ever even suggested that he thought Will was innocent, hadn’t visited to state as such or even express his disappointment. He just strolled up to use him some more. If not for Harry…he might have ended up stuck in BSHCI. 

“Agent Potter,” Crawford stated, jaw clenched unpleasantly. He’d tried to actually dig up more information on the man. He hadn’t had much luck, he knew the man was a war hero, had more awards and medals than he’d ever be able to fit on a jacket. Most of his work was redacted, and was very well liked as far up the command chain that he could do pretty much whatever he liked. 

He still couldn’t figure out just how Will and Potter had met or knew each other. It didn’t seem like they could have crossed paths. Then again, it wasn’t easy tracking Will into childhood, he and his father moved around too much for him to be able to easily do that. Regardless, it didn’t matter, Potter had been born in England, once he reached eleven information became impossible to obtain. Ergo, they hadn’t been childhood friends. 

“Crawford,” Harry inclined his head, making no effort to hide his shit eating grin. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Crawford asked Will, “Privately.” A bite coming to his tone. 

“Anything you’ve got to say, you can say here,” Will said tightly, shifting awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry,” Crawford ground out, “I thought I pushed you too far.” 

“If you had your forensic team do their job properly, Will would never have been arrested,” Harry retorted immediately, “What was it you found on the lures?” stiff and furious. DNA from the fresh kills that Hannibal had done in order to get Will freed as part of the bargain. Making them realize that there was no ‘copycat killer’ but the Chesapeake ripper toying with them. 

“We need your help to catch the Chesapeake Ripper,” Crawford said, ignoring what the Agent said, mostly due to the fact he had absolutely no comeback. “He’s killing again.” By ‘he’ he meant suspect, they didn’t have a particular one, he didn’t suspect Hannibal despite Will’s attempts to tell him. Especially considering Will had seemed very confused himself. He had no evidence no real understanding of why he’d believe that. 

“How many?” Will asked. 

Crawford’s eyes gleamed with triumph, “Five that we’ve found so far,” he knew Will wouldn’t be able to resist temptation. He just had to wait, dangle bait and he’d come crawling. 

Harry remained silent, allowing Will to do as he pleased, it was up to him at the end of the day. The sooner they got them home though, the quicker he could give him the potion to reverse the damage his idiot of a brother did to himself. 

“Then you’re got one chance to catch him, he kills in Sounders,” Will pointed out the obvious, everyone knew the Chesapeake Ripper killed in rounds of threes. Or rather, everyone that was either interested in serial killers or law enforcement. 

“I’ve got?” Crawford stated, smart enough to get the underlying statement. “You’re not still under the impression that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper, Will!” his tone exasperated. 

Harry made a small strained noise, glancing down at his watch, “We should go, we’ve got shopping to do and it’s going to take at least two hours to get home…we’ll be met with rush hour traffic.” 

“Will…” Crawford warned, whatever else he was going to say was cut off as he gaped incredulously. 

“Good luck finding out who it is,” Will said, only to grunt as Harry grabbed his head again, “Gerroff! My hair’s bad enough!” swatting Harry’s hands away, only for Harry to grab his chin and make him look in the direction of Crawford and he had to look away, shoulders shaking. “You’re doing it on purpose.” He managed through a mouthful of wheezes as Harry guided him towards the doors. 

Jack Crawford was staring agog, hands dropped to his side, staring at the pair like they’d grown tentacles before his eyes. All that was missing was him rubbing his eyes to make sure he actually saw what he had. 

“Course I did,” Harry chortled, “Did you see his face?” 

Jack just watched them go, his mind reeling, never had he seen Will allow anyone to touch him without flinching a mile. Let alone so casually without bite and anger sent their way. He could remember the glare Will sent him and all he’d done was slid his glasses back into his face trying to gauge his reaction. 

“I wasn’t aware it could contort that way,” Will admitted, it was a cross between disbelief, shocked incredulity and indignant anger. As they stepped outside, Will couldn’t help but close his eyes and inhale sharply, the crisp fresh air blasting him in the face. 

“The car is this way,” gesturing to round the side of the building. 

“Why the earlier warning?” Will asked, it was almost as if Harry didn’t want him to warn Jack. “Are you seriously asking me to keep the fact Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper from Jack?” 

Harry whirled around, “Would he believe you?” giving Will an expectant look, “What’s the point in wasting your breath? Seriously? Plus…I may have made a deal with him.” 

Will remained silent, not sure what to think about Harry making deals with the devil. Plus, exhaustion was beginning to cripple him. Knowing his freedom was so close, and that Harry was absent…he’d not come to visit the last two day’s he’d been worried. “What happened to you?” 

Harry knew what he was talking about, “Ah, that, later.” He’d tell him what happened later. Right now, they needed to focus on Will and getting him better. They had all the time in the world for discussions. Plus, he had no idea what Will would remember of this conversation…the oncoming days were bound to be stressful. 

\-------0End Flashback0------

“He’ll be expecting me,” Will said still distracted about Lecter, “I think that’s what my next move would be.” If Harry wasn’t there, if he got out, he reckoned he would have gone after him. 

Harry frowned, “Crawford?” expecting him what? To show up for work? 

“Lecter,” Will said, unable to call him anything but right now, swallowing thickly, recalling Abigail’s ear being forced down his throat by the man. 

“I can see it,” Harry nodded, “The Bravery of all those fools in the academy bleeding into you. The sooner I get that potion down your throat the better.” shuddering, he wanted his brother back. Right this very minute, his brother was more liable to get sorted into Gryffindor when he was pragmatic enough that he was a Slytherin through and through. 

Silence descended between them again, as Will finished what was left of the crap chips. Or rather crisps as he would call them, he hadn’t been entirely Americanised yet despite his years here. He still called the faucet a tap, still called chips crisps and everything else in-between. 

“Where is Abigail?” Will asked, his tone sleepy, the lull of the car and his own lack of sleep and a full belly and the feeling of safety easing him, “Is she still alive, is she alright?” what would Lecter do to her? Was she in danger from him? Or was she going along with everything he did? Did she approve of it? 

“Yes, she’s alive,” Harry murmured quietly, “Rest, I’ll wake you up when we get there, shouldn’t be too long now.” He was getting way to used to driving, it was such a massive waste of time to him. Especially when he had the ability to just Apparate wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Should have just got the food, shrunk the car and Apparated them home…it wouldn’t be the first time he’d Apparated with his brother…who knew all about magic. 

Harry glanced over at Will, slightly disturbed by his fascination with Abigail Hobbs. Just how deeply was he entrenched in the lives of those he absorbed into him? Was it a genuine fascination of his own creation or that of the serial killer Hobbs? Every time he visited Will asked if she was still alive, it was bordering on obsessive. 

Harry couldn’t have been gladder to see what was becoming a rather rapidly familiar street, albeit very long since the nearest neighbours Wolf trap had was miles away. The second the car stopped, the door opened and the dogs sprung out as if they knew their Owner was here. “Kreacher has let the dogs out,” he said, nudging Will, “Come on, lets get you inside.” Opening the car door, making sure none of the dogs got inside the car. 

Laughing softly, as they all followed him, his shoulders relaxing, contentment rolling off him. He was glad to be getting Will back home so quickly, without having to endure a trial or worse using magic to circumvent the whole thing. 

Which in his opinion would have made it easier, but oh well, he was home now. 

“Did you say Kreacher?” Will frowned, blinking blearily at Harry, he needed a drink and sleep, in that order. 

“My house-elf,” Harry confirmed as the dogs continued to vie for Will’s attention. 

Winston, bless him, was waiting at the side patiently, not pawing all over to get to Will. So sure, that he’d get his turn sooner or later. Which was true enough, his tail was swinging back and forth, wiping some of the smaller dogs faces as he did so. 

Harry whistled sharply, “Go on,” he told them all, before helping his brother out of the car, “When was the last time you slept?” he huffed, Will might be thin but he was still a heavy weight to carry. 

“At the hospital,” Will said, grateful for the support, he would have gotten into the house sooner or later. Hell, sick as fuck he’d managed to get from Wolf trap to Baltimore loads of times. 

Harry pursed his lips, not really surprised to hear that. “The potion will likely make you sleep a lot for the next few days,” Harry told him, as they both made their way inside, Harry keeping an eye on Will when he wavered a bit but other than that, made it under his own power. 

Will blanched when he saw the creature in his house, that was Kreacher? He was expecting someone tall, with pointy ears and long white hair. Then again, Harry had never actually described them…for good reason it seemed. 

“What can Kreacher get for Master Harry and Master Will?” Kreacher asked, gazing at Will just as curiously as Will was staring at the diminutive creature in his sitting room. 

“Orange juice, and the potion if its available yet?” Harry said, guiding Will to his bed, which actually had a bed frame, so he was easily able to sit down without falling all the way down. 

“Yes Sir!” Kreacher said, doing as Harry bid. 

“The dogs…” 

“They’re be back in don’t worry they can’t get off the property,” Harry reassured him, “Drink up,” Harry handed over the orange juice, he was gratified to see instructions with the potion Kreacher handed him. Considering what he’d paid for it and how rare it was, he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

He read the instructions, along with the list of side affects and what to expect. It was pretty standard, and he nodded absently, exactly what he was expecting. 

“I’d rather have my Whiskey,” Will said, handing him the full glass of orange juice back, moving to stand to get it himself. 

Harry laughed, “That cheap stuff is gone,” and he wasn’t about to tell him where the good stuff could be found. Not until the potion had done its job. “Plus, you can’t take this potion with alcohol, you’re not really supposed to take any potions with alcohol.” Except one or two that were specifically designed so, sober up draught and the hangover cure. 

Will scowled, glaring at Harry unimpressed, why had he wanted his brother here again? He couldn’t quite recall…he might be first born but technically Harry was older than him. His younger brother was older than him. Yeah, that had taken him a while to swallow, now he needed that damn drink. 

He was not pouting damn it. 

\-----------------------------0

A/N – Abigail Yes or No? Only chance before the plot begins to unravel fully, I know a lot of people like her and I know a lot of people cannot stand her character and I wonder which way you people swing, I probably should just put it to a vote on Facebook group poll but I love hearing your thoughts here too 😊 a Poll just answers there’s no explanation which I’d love to hear! Will Hannibal come to Wolf trap? Will he still continue to do Will’s job? Or will like last time Will go to him? Of course, things are going to veer away from the series here it’s never going to be a repeat of it with Harry there for him, that would just be boring, I think! Do you want to see or rather read Harry taking care of Will? Will Harry and Will ever reveal they’re related to anyone? Will Hannibal guess? What about Katz…is she still alive? :P :P will we make her friends with Will or will she end up screwing that up? Or Alana? And Skeeter…oops I meant Lounds :P hope they two never meet up 😉 R&R


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